The Perks of Being a Heartbreaker
by 5678Life
Summary: Isabelle Lightwood and Jace Wayland are the two most infamous heartbreakers in their senior class-but it hasn't always been that way. Now in their final year, a bet is on the table that is sure to change everything. Will their motivation to win help them see their faults or just make everything a total disaster? Uncover their past and discover their future, this is their year. AU
1. The Bet

**Hey guys! Thanks for reading! I have a lot pre-written so hopefully you'll stay with me to get to the good parts! I'll be explaining a lot of things as I go along so if you're confused, just wait! An explaination is coming I promise, but if you have any questions just message me! Please read and review!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters blah blah, and title inspired by "The Perks of Being A Wallflower" if you haven't read it already :)**

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The Bet

**JACE**

"You are such a…BASTARD!"

Yeah, like I haven't heard _that_ one before. I stood there, uncaring while my latest—now ex—girlfriend spat profanities at me. Her cheeks were flushed and mascara streaked her face—she looked so much less attractive than I found her a week ago. Sure she was a nice time, pretty enough, decent in bed—but she started to get too clingy. Once girls start looking for emotions it's time to pull the plug.

"Hey look, I don't have time for this." I huffed. I really didn't give a flying fuck what she had to say to me now. I waved off her attempts to call me back and headed towards the exit instead. "Whatever, Stacey." I said dismissively and left her there screaming in the middle of the crowded mall.

I sighed in relief when I gripped the wheel of my car. I couldn't bear to be around any girl I'd just broken up with for more than a few minutes. Maybe once I would've felt bad. There was always a spark of guilt, but that's all it was now. A spark, a flash. There was nothing more, I was numb to the feeling.

I floored it before I could remember what real guilt feels like.

Speeding down the highways home, I felt it again. Not the guilt, no, the superiority. The freedom. Now I can finally leave the summer drama behind me. Well, not really, I still have to see her at school tomorrow. But not even the horrible look on her face I saw just now—or the hate filled death stares I'll get later—could shake the feeling of release that comes with letting a girl go. Now that summer's over, I can start with a clean slate. No drama. No attachments.

Tomorrow's gonna be a bloodbath.

All the girls that spent all summer reworking themselves for the infamous Jace Wayland might _actually_ have a shot, now that Stacey's out of the picture. Hannah looked pretty cute at the end of the year, and I hear that Lauren's not a virgin anymore….

_This_ year is sure to be interesting.

**ISSABELLE**

The minute Jace walked in the door, I _knew_ something was up. No, not even _something—_I knew exactly what was up. It happens every Sunday for fuck's sake….

He sauntered in with his jacket slung over his shoulder, keys jingling lightly on the tips of his fingers. I noticed the sort of bounce to his step and he was even whistling to himself. Whistling? Jace? He was too much of a distraught, girl-dumping, doom cookie for anything that happy! This is getting ridiculous.

"Hey, Izzy!" He called brightly as he passed by.

I sighed, not even pausing to look up from my book. "How did Stacey take it?"

He slowed his pace. "Fine…?"

"Yeah, I doubt that."

"Well, am I supposed to care?"

My eyes flickered to his now. "No, I guess not since it's _you._" I sneered.

"Oh," He feigned offence. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"You spoil every girl you touch." I accused. "Don't act like you didn't notice." I gathered my things and started up the stairs. Not even bothering to look at him as I breezed by.

"Well I didn't spoil you, did I?" He yelled after me.

"Fuck off, Wayland!" I shrieked and slammed by bedroom door. Asswipe. Everything was calm for a moment, I had enough time to set my book down and plop on my bed before I heard him bounding up the stairs. Seconds later there was a rumble on my door and Jace popped his blond head in. "Love you, Izzy!" I flung a pillow at him. And he deflected it easily. He left but I could still hear his snickers from down the hall.

Ugh. That player! He goes through girls like a nerd goes through books. He treats them like garbage and yet all the girls _still_ fight for him. They get bitchy about it too—don't they know if they wait it out, he'll get to them eventually? No doubt they'll be flocking him when school starts tomorrow now that the news is out. Of course by now it's all over twitter. Stacy's page is full of those typical break-up tweets: "Boys suck. Don't trust Jace Wayland #loveisdead."

So now she finally gets it.

Love screws us over. We all know that, what I don't understand are the girls who go looking for it even after they get burned. Sure, if I find a guy that's cute I'll screw around a little, but nothing too serious. I found it a lot easier to play it safe—no emotions, no relationship. But it's Jace's fault I turned into a heartbreaker—that little fucker. Now I'm just like him, just the less concentrated girl version.

To love is to destroy. And it took an encounter with a certain golden boy for me to figure it out.

XXX

My alarm blared on, and instantly the classic sound of Coldplay filled my room. 6AM, it flashed. Damn, school. At least this year was the last—finally Jace and I were seniors—and this one _has_ to be the best. Either that or it would suck terribly. I'm hoping for the first.

I went through my normal routine: shower, clothes, hair, makeup, tumblr, and just as I was packing the last of my things there was a loud banging on my door. "Come on Izzy! I want to go to Starbucks before school!" Jace whined. I shut off everything and grabbed my stuff, opening the door in his face. "Fine, but you're driving. I do _not _feel like making the drive to Dallas today."

He smirked. "Fine. Just hurry." He bolted down the stairs. I sighed and followed after him, pausing to check my reflection in the large mirror in the living room.

"You look fine, Izzy. Although, I'm not sure school would approve of those shorts." My mother called from the kitchen. She waved her finger in mock disapproval.

I smiled lightly. "Mr. DeLuna won't care. It's an _arts_ school. Fashion is a way of expressing my artistic ability!" I sauntered over to her to accept my awaiting hug, not expecting to get jumped. But of course, that's exactly what happened. Attack of the Overprotective Mom.

"Oh, my baby's a _senior!_ One more year left! What to do?" My mom said between gushy kisses.

"Okay mom, no need to get sentimental….The year just started….Mom!" I squealed while trying to squeeze out of her embrace.

"Hey, Mayrse! Can you let your daughter go so we can leave?"

Instantly she stopped and all eyes flew to Jace, who was impatiently waiting by the stairs. I could tell he felt uncomfortable watching Mayrse show affection towards me like this. Mayrse must've noticed it too because she promptly flew over to Jace and showered him with kisses also.

"Oh, Jace! You're practically my son! You are so talented, my senior!"

Jace made a gagging noise. "Did Alec get this much attention when he was a senior? I don't remember this many—" Jace paused to wiggle out of Mayrse's death grip and succeeded, but not before she planted another kiss on his forehead. "This many kisses…."

I grabbed Jace's hand and dragged him to the door before this lovefest could start again. "Bye mom!"

Her face dropped. "Where are you going so early?"

"First day Starbucks!" Jace called over his shoulder.

"But I made breakfast!" She whined.

"Give it to Max!" We both yelled in unison. We passed by his door on the way out and shouted a chorus of "Bye buddy! Have fun at school! Yay 5th grade! See ya later!" And bolted out the door before Mayrse could say another word.

XXX

I sat down at one of the little café tables and rolled my eyes at the obvious sight. "Who could you _possibly_ be texting at 8 in the morning?"

Jace's eyes flicked up. "It's 8:15," He said sassily. "And Jackie. She got really cute over the summer and—"

"You disgust me." I shook my head slowly. "Didn't you _just_ break up with Stacey?"

"Yeah, so?" He shrugged.

"Haven't they been best friends since like, 3rd grade?"

"Your point?"

"I'm trying to help you here!" I nearly squealed.

"Well, help me help myself! Talk to Jackie for me! You know her right?"

I glared at him over my tea. "I'm not going to help you ruin some girl's senior year!"

"Who says I'll ruin it?" He smirked and casually leaned back in his chair. "Hell, I'll probably make it her best year yet!"

I scowled at him. "Why do I talk to you again?"

"Because we live in the same house."

"Sometimes I wish we didn't." I muttered too low for him to hear. Not that mattered. He was tapping away at his phone again. "I bet you couldn't even stay with a girl for a year."

"Of course I could Izzy! I just never have the motivation."

Instantly an idea floated into my head. "But what if you _did _have the motivation?"

He paused mid sip and gave me a guarded look. "What are you getting at Izzy?"

I sat for a minute, thoughtfully sipping on my drink. _What could be better than proving him wrong? _I laughed inwardly. _Playing with his weaknesses and watching him lose!_

I had to admit; sometimes I can go too far when it comes to toying with Jace. But this time it was slightly different. This might actually help him….I might be able to get him to care. Suddenly my idea went from something masochistic to something beneficial. Maybe I could bring the old Jace back. There was a dull aching in my heart, and then a fire. I _had_ to do this! It's for the good of the female population!

It wasn't hard to find his weakness. All I had to do was list of all of Jace's faults when it comes to his relationships. He can barely stay with a girl for more than a week, and he only wants them in bed. He never really gets to know them nor does he even like them for their personality…what to do? I wanted to make this as hard as possible—at least if he doesn't learn anything I would have the pleasure of watching him squirm. I smiled at the thought. It was perfect! Surely this would make this year exciting for the both of us. Everything seemed to be working itself out in my head—all I had to do was give him a prize and he would be won.

"Make a bet with me, Jace?"

His confusion turned to shock, and then interest. "It depends…" He mused. "What are the guidelines and what happens if I win?"

_Oh it's on now. _

"I bet that you couldn't stay with a girl for longer than a school year. So to prove me wrong, you must do so…with the girl of my choice."

His face dropped immediately. He opened his mouth to protest but I cut him off.

"You scared, Wayland?"

His mouth popped closed.

"Don't worry, I won't be too mean! Clary Fray isn't a bad girl after all!"

"Clary Fray?!" He nearly screamed. "The red head in visual? Are you crazy?!"

"No I'm not. I'm doing you a favor!"

He stared at me, eyes wide. "Oh really? How?"

"Because I know you like her. You told me yourself."

"I did no such thing." He said quickly.

"Actually you did." I countered. "Don't try to deny it."

He got quiet for a moment, either trying to remember or regretting the truth. He threw his hands in his face and groaned at the table. "It was freshman year, Izzy! This will kill my reputation!"

"Oh, I'm sorry this little bet will hurt your ego!" I said sarcastically. "And you know those crushes never really go away, right?"

I waited, feeling superior when he slowly dropped his hands. "Fine, I'll do it. What else then?"

"Well first you have to get her to like you and—"

"That won't be an issue." His arrogance was back on, as usual. "Every girl likes me!"

_You'd be surprised about Clary. _I thought. _She's stronger than you think. _

"So, you have to get her to like you—in fact, you two will have to be together by Christmas break. And then you have to stay with her until after graduation—get to know her, learn to love her. And try not to sleep with her. Or cheat on her—that's an automatic forfeit. Oh! And I want a paper! Tell me all about her and why you like her! Due the last day of school!"

Okay, maybe this is a little much. Oh, wait. Do I care?

Nope.

His expression had changed somewhere during my speech. Now his face was a mix of boredom and irritation. "Remind me again why I'm doing this?"

"Because you're Jace Wayland! You never back down from a challenge!" I teased. "And also, if you win I'll…" I struggled to say the words. "I'll be your bitch for the day!" I cursed myself. The _last _thing I wanted was to give into Jace's demands for a whole day—but I _did _want to see him fight for Clary's affection…and who said he could win anyways?

He seemed to be pondering my offer also. The light had returned to his eyes and there was a devilish smirk creeping onto his face. "My bitch, you say?"

I pursed my lips and nodded. "Anything you want for a whole day."

The devilish smirk had turned into a full-fledged evil grin that turned my body stone cold. I didn't even want to _think_ about what terrible things he was thinking of making me do. Jace has a very vivid imagination, mix that with the possibilities in reality and he'll go wild.

I'm starting to regret this….

"I'm sold!" He chortled and extended his hand. "You've got yourself a deal!"

"Not so fast! You didn't even hear what I had to say if you lose!"

His golden eyes flashed up to mine as he shot me a charming grin. I grin that I'm sure has won the hearts of many girls. But not mine. Not anymore at least. "Do you _really _think I'll lose, Isabelle? Get ready to lose that inky black hair of yours!"

I rolled my eyes and shook his hand, sealing the deal. "I guess I'll have to wait and see."

Wait. What did he just say about my hair?!

Shit. What did I just get myself into?


	2. Encounters

**Sorry for the late updates! Performances for school have been such a pain! I was determined to get this uploaded today and I hope y'all like it! Please follow/review. Also, this is where things in my story get very specific-if any details confuse you _please _don't hesitate to PM me questions! Thanks!**

**I don't own anything BTW :)**

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Encounters

**JACE**

Izzy and I walked the rest of the way to school in silence. She had her music on and my head was swimming with thoughts. We tuned each other out regardless. Heading around to the back of the school where the metal detectors were, I was in a trance. There was a mix of elation, confidence and…fear? I've never really spoken to Clary before, and it's true, I did like her my freshman year. But is Izzy right? Is it possible that I still could like her 3 years later?

Passing by the sculpture yard in the back of the school, I felt a sort of unease. I'm not sure if it's just me but walking around welders, and saws and jagged pieces of metal made me antsy. However, some of the things that the visual cluster can do amaze me. Giant metal scorpions, concrete sculptures, and the airplane on a stick one must be new—I was wondering what they were going to do with those old airplane parts last year. Huh.

_I wonder if Clary made any of those._

It was a familiar thought. I'm sure I've wondered the same thing every time I've passed the sculpture yard since I've met her. Maybe this really did mean something.

Getting my bags checked by the metal detectors was a blur and somewhere in the process Izzy had gone ahead of me, now squealing with some of her dancer friends. In fact everyone was squealing. The zero floor at Booker T. is always chaotic, especially on the first day. The clueless freshmen hugged the walls and the overconfident seniors walked in like they own the place. I guess that means I own the place. It sure as hell looks like it—here I am standing in the middle of the main hallway with my friends surrounding me and I didn't even notice. I've only been here for two minutes….

Somebody clapped me on the shoulder yelling, "Sup, Jace?! Haven't seen you in a while bro!"

I knew instantly it was my best friend Josh coming to annoy me once again. "Ready for another year of shenanigans Joshua?"

"Heeellllll yeah!" he wailed. "Senior year bitchessss!" We hooted and hollered for the longest as our crowd grew bigger and Josh continued to scope the halls for any "new faces".

"Damn!" he shouted out of nowhere. "Isabelle looks _hot, _I mean _smokin' _hot! I'd get with that in a minute!"

"Haven't you already?" I asked monotonously. I was _very_ uninterested in my best friend's sexual attraction to my almost sister.

"Well of course I have!" he beamed. "But I'd do it again in a heartbeat…." He floated over to where she stood and gave her one of his "coveted" hugs from behind. Josh was a notorious player—in the eyes of everyone but himself. He'll deny it until the day he dies. At least I admit that I'm the best….

Even from across the hall I could see their obvious eye sex. His hands lingered near Izzy's waist—I taught him that move—and they were having some intensely flirtatious conversation about nothing. And for some reason I continued to stare at them. What?

A shock of red hair flashed into my view and caught my gaze as it slowly bobbed away. Clary.

But there was something missing.

"Hey, where's that Simon kid? The geeky one that runs with the ginger?" I asked to no one in particular.

"Simon Lewis? Heard he had this thing with Clary Fray over the summer—ended in flames—now they no longer speak."

"Thanks Celeste."

She gave me a sly smile. "Just call me Gossip Bitch!"

I turned my attention back to Clary who was headed back towards the art studios. So she's fresh out of a breakup with her now former best friend. I'll have to go about this slowly….

The ringing of the bell interrupted my train of thought. Automatically I headed to the second floor band hall where all the music cluster kids meet to get their final schedules. Everyone filed out and across the distance I managed to lock eyes with Izzy. She winked at me and mouthed "good luck!" before slipping into the zero floor dance studios. I was carried with the current of kids up the stairs, preparing my mind for this game I'm about to play.

XXX

**ISABELLE**

"Good work in placement today Isabelle."

I turned around to face the teacher that just gave me a complement. "Thank you so much!" I replied sweetly. I smiled as politely as possible. Mrs. Weiss _did _run the dance cluster after all—she's the last person you want to fuck with.

She nodded, dismissing me as I spun on my heel and started for the dressing room. Placement was a bitch. Public humiliation. Why they decide to level us into classes on the first day I'll never know. But I do know that if I'm late for company class Mrs. Weiss will be _pissed._

I changed into my black tights as quickly as possible.

At least we didn't have to have placement for this class—we already had it, it's called auditions. This is my second year on Rep 1 so I already know what to expect—and know all the choreo—this first semester is going to be a total bore….

I warmed up silently while Mrs. Weiss droned on about Rep 1's "good reputation" and how we're the "role models and inspiration" for this cluster blah, blah, Booker T. Washington HSPVA blah. I only looked up when I heard her calling me over to talk. She asked in a hushed voice, "Today we're working on Mercy, and you already know the entire dance. Now you know we have the collaborative show with the music cluster coming up soon, yes?"

I nodded.

"I want you to start rehearsing with me tomorrow. But for today, I want you to work with your musician. Your solo you did in composition last year was beautiful, would you mind if I used it in my piece?"

"Not at all!" I beamed.

She also smiled. "Wonderful, just go in the next studio and work out the counts—I trust you. He's a cellist, by the way." She walked away from me very quickly to attend to her company. I called out a thank you and left for the next room where "my musician" was warming up.

Beautiful notes surrounded me from the moment I opened the door. The deep, rich tones of the cello echoed in the empty room and the boy in the front, head bent over his instrument in concentration, didn't even look up when I walked in.

I had to pause. There was something about the cello that was always so stunning to me. It was one of those moments where you had to sit and enjoy the music while it lasted—eyes closed and everything. The piece was wonderful, crescendos and retardos in all the right places, and when it finally came to a close I was left wanting more. The last note hung in the silence and once it died out completely he spoke. "No, I did not write that!"

I peeled my eyes open and rose. "So I'm guessing that's the music then? For the piece?"

He grinned widely and his brown eyes lit up. "Ready to dance?" He restrung his bow and started from the top of the section. I instantly had to flip from pleasure to business—which was also pleasure. It was my job to take my own choreography and mold it to the music I was given, and that takes a lot of time. I'm not quite sure how long we spent in our own zones. We were so focused on the dance and the music that we were interrupted by the bell. Almost immediately a crowd started to form at the large observing windows on the first floor, looking down on me and my cellist.

Might as well give them a show, right?

"From the top—de capo!" I called.

He glanced up at the windows nonchalantly. "No marking."

Our eyes connected—a silent vow to give it our all. I personally was very proud. It's as if the music was made for my solo—it wasn't as difficult as I expected. With the kinks all worked out, this time I could really _dance _it_._ And the boy in the front could really play.

And I mean _play. _The music got better every single time he played it—he was phenomenal. And the way were able to combine both of our passions together and make something spectacular is the reason why I know I'm going to love this show, and continue to love this school.

We both finished and I swear I could hear clapping from the windows on the first floor. "Looks like we killed it on the first day!" I exclaimed.

"And we've got a month and a half to finish the show. We're off to a great start!"

I smiled slightly and nodded. "Well thank you so much…?"

"Oh! The name's Simon. Nice to meet you!" He extended a hand and I took it. "Isabelle."

"Isabelle…a beautiful name." He pondered.

"Oh—thank you…." I replied awkwardly. It's been a while since I've heard that compliment.

I glanced up at the clock. It was 10 after four and I told Jace I'd meet him at the statue at 4:15. Simon had started to pack up his instrument and I assumed we were done.

"Oh, Isabelle!"

I turned around, my hand on the door knob. "Yeah?"

He looked me right in the eyes. "You're a beautiful dancer. I look forward to working with you."

XXX

**JACE**

The bell blared. The end of the longest first day ever. I gathered up my things as slowly as possible, keeping an eye on an unsuspecting redhead that was also in my AP English 3 class. We sat on opposite sides of the room—I said slowly, right? I have the rest of the semester to win her over. How, I have no idea….

"Clary!" Mr. Davidson called.

She responded and walked to his desk. I walked out but hung close to the door. Yeah, this may be creepy. Borderline stalkerish even but…I'm getting to know her, right? I stayed as silent as possible while the two spoke.

"Your paper you wrote over the summer was spectacular! I mean wonderfully written—did you know you had this gift?"

"Well, I've been told my writing is good. I've just been so focused on my art…." She replied in a small voice.

"Clary, if you could do this for me I think it could really open your eyes and perfect your newfound talent. You know the Creative Writing Club meets tomorrow after school, I want you to come. You can write something or just sit in and listen, but I'd really love if you'd consider it."

"I think I will…thank you!"

"No problem Clary!"

That was my cue to leave. I was halfway down the hall before Clary even reached the door.

Creative Writing Club? I would've never guessed. I have to go it now, and I can't write to save my life. I'm doing it for her—maybe if I slide in the back nobody will notice….

When I finally reached the first floor it was packed—as always. But packed in the wrong spot. The windows above the dance studios were crowded with people, and being the nosey—and now stalkerish—guy that I am, I had to look. I saw the black ponytail before anything else and I knew instantly that it was Izzy. She really was a beautiful dancer and I'm not sure if I'd ever admit that, but I loved to watch her. My eyes were locked on her for the longest until they wandered up to the front where I saw the musician, eyes also intently staring at Izzy.

Simon Lewis. Should I be concerned about this?

Applause suddenly erupted around me and I clapped along with them, my eyes centered on Lewis. Everyone started to filter away but I stuck around. Surely I wasn't the only one who noticed the way he was looking at her. Or the way she was looking at him….

Oh. My. God.

I felt evil, but she deserves what's coming. If I know one thing, it's if Izzy's nice to a guy, she likes him. And just from looking I can tell she hasn't told Simon to "fuck off" yet. She was _smiling_ too! It may not seem like much to her but _I _know that something will be going on between them, whether I instigate it or not.

But who am I kidding? Two can play at this game.

XXX

I leaned against the brick wall near the Pegasus statue. Yeah, we're the Booker T. Pegasi, which I always find freakin' awesome but nobody will ever know. I'm too cool for school, remember?

"Fro-yo?" I heard Izzy ask as she passed by me. Too much momentum to stop I assumed. I followed after her and her million bags. "Yeah, red mango sounds nice."

We dumped our stuff in my car and kept going to the frozen yogurt store a good distance away from school. Not very many people know about it but for some reason we'll travel a mile out by foot to get some yogurt when it's 100+ degrees out in September.

We continued in silence for a while. Izzy had her music in and was tuning me out again—I was used to it by now—she was so dependent on her iPod. I spoke anyways. "I bet you couldn't trust Simon Lewis even if he was your best friend."

Her eyes widened. I knew she heard me. "Well that's a problem, we're not even friends."

"Then let's change that." I said quickly. "Because I have a feeling you two will be getting a _lot_ closer over the next few months."

Her eyes narrowed to slits as she glared at me sideways. "Continue…."

"All you have to do is be friends with him." I teased. "Just learn to trust him—and don't sleep with him—and you'll win. It's just a minor bet after all"

"Wait, who says I'll sleep with him?!"

"What? You don't think he's cute?"

"…I never said _that…_"

I smirked. "It's settled then, if you win I'll buy you Starbucks and music for a whole year."

"And if you win?"

"I get your iPod for two weeks."

Her expression changed and all the color drained from her face. "I hate you."

"I'll take that as an acceptance." I pulled open the door to the yogurt shop as she followed behind me, probably cursing me on the inside. "Want me to buy you something?"

"No," She smirked. "You better start saving, Starbucks isn't cheap, Wayland."

XXX

**ISABELLE**

The second day was much like the first. Wake up, Jace, Starbucks, classes, lunch, same old crap. Things didn't start turning around until my third class of the day. I had placement _again _except this time for modern instead of ballet, thank God. Then after that AP Chemistry.

Not very many people know this, but I'm a total nerd. I could've taken something easier but I felt like challenging myself this year. When I realized I didn't suck at chemistry my sophomore year I thought that I could stick it out one more time.

I checked the dance call board where all the announcements were posted for the cluster. Printed at the bottom of the schedule was the only thing that applied to me: "Collab. Show practice – Weiss – 4:30 Musicians at 5:00"

I was texting Jace on the way up the steps. _Collab practice tonight. You in it?_

There was almost an instant reply. _Yeah, 5 right? Got something to do before. Get food?_

Something to do? I couldn't help being nosey. _Hiding something from me, Jace?_

It wasn't until I reached my classroom when he texted me back saying, _Writing Club right after school, for Clary._

I replied.

I took a seat in the chair next to my friend Jenna. Might as well have a friend as a lab partner, right? We chatted a little until the bell rang and the teacher took his place in the front of the room. "Alright, you guys know me, and if you don't I'm Mr. Asher." He paused to scan the room. "And if you remember correctly I told every single one of you to _not take this class. _But you did. And now you'll pay the price." I laughed a little on the inside. I've always liked Mr. Asher. He's a fair teacher who knows what he's talking about and yes, he did warn us—many times—to not take this class. "Now, you have one minute to get to know the person you're sitting next to…starting now."

Jenna and I just looked at each other and laughed. I've known her since freshman year—I texted her yesterday. We just took the time to talk about how much of a pain the collaborative show was going to be since we're both dancers. We were in the middle of whining when Mr. Asher held up his hands. "Now everybody get your stuff and come to the front I'm assigning lab partners."

Of course.

There was a collective moan from the class as we reluctantly gathered our things. Everyone seemed pretty happy with their partners, but it was a teacher's job to make us feel as awkward as possible. He started naming off people and assigning them to the paired, black tables that filled the room. I was paying no attention to him and continued to stare at the multicolored periodic table that hung in the back of the room.

"Lightwood!" He called and pointed to my seat, right in the front.

Crap….

"And your partner is…Lewis. Simon Lewis."

Shit. Fucking shit. Of course he's my effing lab partner too!

It probably wouldn't have been so bad if he wasn't part of the bet, but he was, and he's my musician and my partner for the _entire_ year. I should've never agreed to Jace's stupid bet. There's no way I could become friends with him. I'm not even friends with Josh and I made out with him in the stairway today during lunch!

I wasn't lying when I said I was like Jace.

"Hello, Isabelle! It's nice to see you again." Simon said as he slid into the chair next to mine.

"Same!" I put on my nicest smile and looked up to the front where Mr. Asher was passing out index cards. "On this card I want you to write your name, grade, cluster, phone number, and one unknown fact about yourself."

I filled out the first four easily, but got stuck on the last one. There are a lot of things people don't know about me, but this card will obviously be seen. I can't just write anything down! I stared at my card and tapped my foot silently, waiting for an answer to come. Very faintly I could hear the sound of a violin wafting in from the open door, and with it an idea. _I've always wanted to learn to play the cello._ I wrote down. Then I continued to glance around the room until Mr. Asher gave us our next set of instructions.

"Everyone done? Good. Now trade your card with your partner and text them right now. I want to make sure you guys get to know each other _really _well because the two of you will be responsible for each other's lives for the rest of the year." He smiled teasingly. "I don't know why this took us the whole class period to do this but you have the last 5 minutes to do whatever. Happy second day!"

Thanks Mr. Asher. Thanks SO MUCH for helping me out.

I slowly turned to Simon. "So…I guess I'll see you at rehearsal today?"

"I'll be there." He said coolly before somebody came up to him and started a conversation. That was my cue to find my iPod and tune everyone out to Lana Del Rey. I sat back in my chair, kicked my feet up on the desk and stared at nothing in particular. I had my stuff ready to go for when the bell rang; there was no way I was staying here past the bell. There were only 10 seconds left of the school day—Mr. Asher's clock was very prompt—and just as the bell tolled my phone buzzed.

I dashed out the door with my phone in one hand and the card with Simon's number on it in the other. I clicked on my phone to text him when I realized he beat me to it. What he said was very simple, and had to do with something only he knows.

_I'll teach you someday._


	3. The Lovely Awkward Moments

**Thanks for coming back! This ended up being a long chapter so hopefully you'll read and review! The poem in this first section is not mine but written my my best friend who was nice enough to let me use it in my story! Her poetry is so lovely and I should have a link to more of her work on my profile soon! Happy holidays y'all!**

* * *

The Lovely Awkward Moments

**JACE**

"_Slightly twisted, slightly out of control/ Seemingly crazy, seemingly true/ A patch of neon in a world of navy blue/ That quickly changes to prints to take over you…"_

I was the kid that sat closest to the door in Mr. Davidson's cluttered room, ready to make a quick escape in case anyone looked at me funny. I kept my head down and my hood up—I might as well have dyed my hair and worn a dress for all the fucks I give.

Right now my count is at too many.

Keeping my distance, I silently listened as students read off their excerpts, and poems, and fanfiction to the rest of the writing club. It was all so foreign to me. Unknown yet…intriguing….By the time Clary stood read her poem I was itching for some pen and paper.

"_So we might be crazy, but we're a hell of a time/ We do not conform to societies' line." _Clary continued, _"We venture where most teens wouldn't dare/ We obsess, we creep, we laugh, we cry/ All in front of anyone wanting to watch our show…" _She paused. A faint blush crept onto her cheeks. "That's all I have so far." She said in a small voice.

A clatter of snaps—yes snaps—hissed around me. All I needed now was a latte and a plush chair and then it would've been an official coffee shop reading. Although, it _was_ hard to be relaxed when the severed baby doll head on an empty Jack Daniel's bottle was staring into your skull….

Yeah, it was time for me to get out of here.

Mr. Davidson called out a "Thanks for coming!" just as the door closed behind me. Only then did I yank my hood down and shake my curls out. Being undercover was too much for me but it was worth it. Clary's poem blew everyone else's out of the water—even if it was unfinished. I'll have to hear the rest when she's done. That's a must.

"Is that Jace Wayland?" Someone wondered from behind.

I turned around at the sound of my name and I instantly wished I hadn't. Right in the middle of the hallway with a clear view of me was Clary Fray.

Oh _shit._

"Were you just…in the _writing_ club?" She asked.

"I—uh…." I was at a loss of words I didn't have one excuse, not one smart remark. I was fucking blushing for God's sake!

"I um," I tried again. "gotta go."

I failed. I spun away from her and booked it down that hallway.

I heard a sigh. "Well did you at least _like _it?"

My pace slowed and debate fired up in my head. _Should I tell her I loved it or lie and say I hated it? My reputation! No, fuck that. I should tell her I love her! No. _Hell _no. God, I can't think straight with her staring at me like this…her eyes are so green….By the angel just _say _something already!"_

"I liked the last part…." I hesitated—I can't fuck this up! "'_A Patch of Neon' _right? I'd really love to hear the whole thing sometime."

Involuntarily—and my some strike of genius—I fished out a crumpled piece of paper and a pen, wrote down 10, highly exclusive, numbers, and handed it to her. "Text me when you finish?"

She eyed the paper cautiously but a slight grin burst onto her lips as she took it. I could only see delight in her eyes when she slid it into a safe place. "I'll think about it, Jace."

She started to walk away from me but turned around at the last minute. "You know, I'm really glad you like it. So…thank you I guess…." I could see the heat start to rush to her face but she walked away from me before I could see the full affect.

She is too effing cute and I promise you something just fluttered in my stomach.

XXX

**ISABELLE**

"I hope you guys are warm because we're taking it from the top." Mrs. Weiss' voice echoed throughout the theater.

We all sluggishly moved to our beginning positions for the collaboration piece. So Booker T. could have a fully functional stage at its use but never had any heat? Backstage was effing freezing! I had to have all my sweats on just so I could move. My muscles were warm, yes, but my socks were not coming off. I did not feel like having to dance with frozen toes—trust me it's not pleasant.

We ran and spaced the piece again, and again, and again. It got to be tiring work after a while and we all got toasty pretty quickly. The sweats were long gone and I wore the shorts and tank top I had on underneath. Functional, but I'm surprised Mrs. Weiss didn't say anything about me not "following Booker T. Dance dress code". Nobody follows it in the first place.

Often she would walk over to the sound system to start the music but I knew I was the only one who knew what the music sounded like live. Everyone else was in for a treat when the musicians get here—their rendition is so much better than this recording. But for the next hour I'll have to put up with it, as well as mounds of corrections, second day sore muscles, and sassy male dancers for the cherry on top. These long rehearsals were beyond stressful, but I still loved this dance…and I'm guessing the one person in the audience did too. When Mrs. Weiss gave us a water break I went into the rows of plush, red seats and sat next to our only fan. "Don't you have until 5:00, Simon?"

"I…um…wanted to come in early. To watch you guys before we started playing." He stuttered. I could've sworn I saw his cheeks flush up. I let it go. "Okay, that's cool." I kicked my feet up on the empty seat in front of me. "Don't look at my feet, they're gross."

Of course, he started looking. I waited for his face to change as he discovered the calluses, the scabs, the scars of past marks, but it never twisted. Not one bit. "It's a part of who you are." He said sweetly. He held up his hands and just on the tips of his fingers were tiny, round calluses. "I guess dancers and musicians have something in common."

My smile matched his as I ran my fingers across his. They weren't as soft as mine but they emitted warmth that was just as comforting. Really comforting.

"Do your hands always get this cold when you dance?" he said.

"Uh—not usually." I was caught off guard by his random question. I didn't even notice my hands were frozen until then. Now that I think about it, they're actually solid blocks of ice…. "Only when I dance in here, I think."

He took his fingertips off mine and sandwiched my hands between his. "Any better?"

I nodded slowly and felt the heat slowly seeping back into my skin. What I thought was his comfort before had been multiplied now. "So who else is coming to play tonight?" I asked, trying to make conversation.

"Oh, it's me Jace, Josh, and a few others I don't think you'll know."

"Josh is coming? Ew."

Simon's brow furrowed but there was a slight smile on his lips. "You don't like Josh?"

"Hmm, I'm conflicted. He's Jace's best friend so I have to at least tolerate him, and sometimes he can be a real sweetheart, but he's such a player!"

"And you're talking about Josh? Not Jace who is _the_ player who will also be here tonight?"

"Well, with Jace it's different. At least _he _won't be staring at my ass while I dance. Josh on the other hand…."

"Will try to see through the tank top?"

"I should probably put my jacket back on when he gets here."

"Yeah, that's probably best!"

We laughed it off. It was easy to with him. I had to admit, if I was going to be friends with any guy, Jace did right when he chose Simon. It was a really nice change to talk to a boy without having to worry if he wants to hook up or not. Normalcy, finally….

"I hope you know that I would never do that." He said, and for a moment I thought he had read my mind. "You just worry about the dance. I'll keep everyone else…focused."

"Thanks." I murmured. How else was I supposed to reply? It's been so long since a guy's been this sweet to me—there's got to be a better way to handle this.

His smile mirrored mine and his eyes were brighter than ever. He held my gaze for a moment but his eyes cut to the stage before it got awkward. Mine drifted to our hands that were still intertwined even though my fingers were plenty warm now. I didn't try to untangle them.

"I think you're needed back on set, Ms. Lightwood."

He was right, unfortunately. I could hear the voices of the other dancers coming back to the stage. Mrs. Weiss trailed closely behind them, "Once more before the musicians get here!" I rolled my eyes. "I guess I've got to go."

"I'll be on stage in a little while. Just find me if your hands ever get cold." He flashed me a grin.

Mine grew a little wider. "Will do."

I swung my feet off the chair as gracefully as possible but the minute my feet hit the floor I regretted standing in the first place. Black spots started to cover my vision and I felt like I was swirling downward very fast. One of my hands shot out to keep myself from falling but warm arms caught me before I hit the ground and held me tight as I fumbled for balance.

"Isabelle, are you okay?" Simon whispered.

"Yeah. I'm fine." I huffed, irritated. I fought my way out of his grip and scrambled to my feet. I did _not_ feel like being saved. Especially by a guy I barely know—scratch that—by a guy in general. I know I'm stronger than that.

I stared at the floor with my hands on my knees. Making sure to take deep breaths so my vision could clear and so the ringing to subside. It may not seem like a big deal, but if it's happening when I stand up I can't imagine what it'll be like when I'm low on breath and upside down.

_Not again! I thought I got past this._ _Why won't this ever _go away?

I didn't try to move for a long while and the entire time Simon stood behind me with the same tensed expression. "Does this happen often?" Concern coated his voice and covered his face.

_Too much. _I thought. "Not really." I said. When I could see my feet I slowly started to inch my way forward. "I'll have fun trying to dance after this!"

"Be careful!" he called out after me.

I started to jog away, but the ringing started again so I slowed to a walk. "I'll try!" I called back and then took my glorious time crawling onto that frozen stage.

Before the dance began I thought, _deep breaths. _Between each lift, _breathe! _During my solo, _open your mouth and take a breath. _And at the very end, _take it slow, you get more air through your mouth, don't gasp, rest, fill your lungs._

Afterwards, while everyone else got to celebrate how good of a run that was, I had to sit down with my head between my knees so I wouldn't pass out. Just like every other time.

XXX

**JACE**

"Dat ass," Josh whispered. Although all the musicians could hear, I'm surprised Izzy didn't turn around—it _was_ her ass he was admiring.

"It's not being shown off to you now is it?" I whispered back.

"Not intentionally but I'm getting a nice view. I knew there was a reason musicians were put in the back!"

"Is it really _that_ hard to watch the movement?" Simon interjected, "That's so much better than staring at their asses when we're supposed to be focused on the music anyways."

"Aww look at Simon being a goody two shoes!" Josh leaned across my seat to teasingly pinch his cheek. "Bet you don't even like chicks anyways."

"I like girls," Simon murmured. "I just know how to respect them—unlike you…." His gaze flickered to me and then back to Josh. "The both of you, actually!"

"Whoa now!" Josh and I said in unison. "Don't get nasty!"

"Do you guys _hear_ what those girls say about you once you're finished with them? Do you even bother to notice how you treat them like shit when you're with them? It's just…" he shook his head, "It gives guys a bad name."

Josh held up a sassy finger, obviously pissed off. "Just because we see more action than you doesn't mean you can shut us down like that! Okay?!" It was probably a good thing that I separated the two of them—Josh looked ready to shove a fist in the kid's face.

Simon took his attention away from us and warily zoned back in on his music. It was quiet for a while, save for the slight sound of the dancer's feet a little distance in front of us. "Good luck trying to get a girl that actually likes you for you." He muttered.

That shut us up right quick.

Not a soul on this earth except for Izzy knows how I feel for Clary, but Simon's words just reminded me of the impossibility of this promise I've made. The usual "she likes me because I'm Jace" clause is void—to her I'm just a pretty face with a bad reputation.

A bad rep that likes writing club—but a bad rep nonetheless.

Josh may not care, but I sure as hell do. If not always then right now as I'm trying to win Clary's heart.

Simon on the other hand seems to have everything going for him. He's a nice guy with a good talent that doesn't have any past relationships lurking around spreading terribly true rumors about him. I guess he's…decent looking…Izzy should like him, right? I mean, here she is with her back turned to us, completely unaware that the guy playing the cello right behind us has the hugest crush on her. It's kind of cute, actually.

"Hey," Josh piped up. He should really give it a rest. "Lots of girls like me! Izzy does!"

Surprisingly, Simon and I _both_ laughed. "No she doesn't!" We said together. I glanced over at him as he tried to stifle his laughter. Did _Izzy_ tell him that? I might be losing this bet sooner than I thought….

"…What?" Josh looked like he just witnessed a terrible tragedy—and for him it probably was. I love Izzy to death, but all the guys know—including me—that she's a prize. That's as good as it gets. And yeah, I guess it would be a tragedy if you found out she hated your guts.

Sucks for them. I can guarantee Simon's the only guy she's ever come close to liking.

"But everything we had. Everything we did did…it was so great…."

Simon cut in. Very fast. "Get over it dude! _She doesn't like you, okay?!" _

"Oh, and she likes _you?" _Josh glared.

_Yes. _But nobody here knew that except for me. She didn't even know.

Simon on the other hand grew quiet and drew back. "Well I don't know about that…." His eyes were on his feet and even after his strike of bravery, he suddenly looked very small. "It'd be a nice thought, though."

Josh's fist was clenched hard around his bow and his lips were pursed in a thin line. He was starting to get flustered—a funny sight, Josh flustered—but still, he spoke. "When she sleeps with you I'll believe it. Until then you're _nothing _to her."

That might as well been a punch in the gut, Simon nearly fell out of his chair. He can't believe that's true. My sister's not like that, is she?

Josh looked ready to go again but luckily the dance director spoke up, "Musicians? Can we try the piece from the top and I'll let everyone go? Great rehearsal you guys."

The dancers cheered their way to their spots and the musicians sighed before we poised our bows, and on the director's signal made our instruments sing.

It was extremely difficult to play and watch the dancers at the same time, but somehow I made it happen. It was amazing how the dancers just kept going and going—it was near 8:00 and they weren't marking at all. Sure playing music was hard but even I had to admit that the dancers are the hard workers.

Near the end of the piece I had a break where Simon played his solo and Izzy did her thing. Here she was gliding across the stage and Simon was playing so effortlessly—together they were phenomenal and everyone knew it. Some of the dancers off stage stared in awe and others looked jealous—but they could fuck off. God knows how hard Izzy's worked for this—she's the best and she deserves every ounce of praise. The music was golden and Izzy was an angel on that stage.

Again, she'll probably never hear this.

I came back in and the dance closed nicely, with only a few corrections from our directors. Once they were done everyone was dismissed.

I swear I've never seen anybody move faster than dancers after rehearsal.

I put my violin up and nodded a goodbye to Josh and Simon when Izzy came over to get me. I walked with her back to the dance studios so she could get her stuff, then slowly we headed towards the car, finally going home.

"The music sounds really good Jace. I love the piece."

I smiled slightly in the darkness. "Thanks, sis. And um…you're solo,"

"Yeah?" She said sweetly, she looked at me with wide eyes.

"It looks really good. You and Simon are great together."

She gave me a quick hug around the waist. "Thank you, Jace! I never thought you'd say anything like that!"

"Me neither." I muttered too low for her to hear.

"Shit!" She yelled and her hands went straight to her hair. "I left my sweats in the theater!"

"But you're wearing pants…."

"No, these are my cutoffs I left my long ones—I'll be right back just pull around please!"

I sighed and looked after her as she sprinted towards the school. Sometimes she could be annoying as hell and other times equally as cute.

And then there's times like these where she's both.

XXX

**ISABELLE**

I ran as fast as I could back into the school building, bounding around corners, bolting down stairs and just avoiding running into the deadly sculptures that lined the art hallways on the zero floor. Even though it was pitch black I knew exactly when I hit the backstage hallway—the cold was immediate. Trying to maneuver myself around chairs, props, light trees, tables, and fog machines made retrieving my sweats more like a secret agent mission than the simple task it should've been.

When I finally found my way to stage right I debated whether or not to get them at all. It was almost impossible to find anything backstage. It's practically a vortex, not to mention it was extremely creepy this late at night.

I decided to go in. Those were my favorite sweats after all and I was not about to lose them tonight.

I treaded on carefully while my eyes searched the ground. So much so that I didn't even notice the audience lights were on. Not that they helped, I was still without sight in the wings. It also took a while to notice that somebody was still on stage. It didn't register until I heard the music start to play. I froze then, feeling oddly like I was invading this person's privacy. Although it was hard not to stay and listen, the cello is a beautiful instrument after all.

Simon!

Of course.

I held my breath for a moment, unsure if I should keep looking or just give up all together. I glanced over my shoulder at him. He looked just like he did the first time I saw him play, he was in his own world and he looked like he loved it.

More importantly he looked like he wouldn't notice me.

I made my way to my knees and slowly scoured the floor. I checked under props and chairs and after a _long_ minute spotted my sweats in the _very _back corner next to the sound system. I swear they move on their own sometimes.

I crawled my way over to them trying to be as soundless as possible. How stupid I must look crawling around on this ice cold, pitch black floor for some pants that—maybe—would've still been here tomorrow. But no. Instead I'm caught in _this _situation. FML.

This was too much for some warm ups. I regretted coming here in the first place but what happened next was what I regret most. I wouldn't have stayed, honestly! I would've been out the door in a heartbeat—but the minute I got to my feet I finally recognized the song Simon was playing so beautifully. Hell, I've known it by heart ever since I saw the musical two summers ago. I sing it every time I hear the tune, and somehow I just knew that I my feet weren't going to carry me out of that theater before I did so….

"_Take this sinking boat, and point it home. We've still got time….Raise your hopeful voice, you have a choice. You've made it now…."_

The minute my mouth closed Simon's head whipped in my direction, and he didn't stop playing either. He was so focused and he smiled as he sang the next line, _"Falling slowly, eyes that know me, and I can't go back…"_

His eyes begged me to continue, and I really did want to. I wanted my little glee moment, I could feel the next line on my lips but I was too stunned to make a sound.

Surely now he thinks I'm a stalkerish creep with a mediocre singing voice—I know, the whole "that's why you're in the dance cluster" deal. I just completely blew my cover and I was probably redder than a tomato. Nothing makes Isabelle Lightwood blush…except maybe total embarrassment. Fuck.

The only thing my body could do besides blush was run away. And that's exactly what I did.

I could hear him calling my name from behind as he chased after me. But I had too much of a head start and I was _gone._ I ran out of that building as quickly as I came in—I nearly slammed full force into Jace's car. I threw my sweats in the back with the rest of my stuff and slid into the front seat, breathing hard and eyes bulging.

"You okay, Izzy? That took a while…."

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm sorry, I'm sorry but…" I paused in between gasps and started to calm down. "Did you know that Simon has a lovely singing voice?"

XXX

What is _happening _to me?

I threw my bags on the floor and crashed onto my bed. It's the second day of school and I'm being _nice_ to some guy I've just met? No. I did not spend years hardening my heart so I could crumble with this one boy.

But Simon was just so _nice. _And he caught me prince charming style when I fell and he's just sokind and caring and geeky and…nice!

Well, I thought Josh was nice too. And Luke, and Chase, and Austin, and _he _who shall not be named. Yeah, they were all nice until they got what they wanted. Then I was the toy, or the rebound, or the bitch. I'm so _done _with that! Who's to say Simon won't be the like the rest of them? No, I can't like him. Not possible.

But his smile and his eyes! This time it'll be different. It's got to be, right?

Ugh, there I go getting hopeful. I lost that a long time ago. I can't go back down that road. Not again.

My internal battle continued until the moment I climbed into my bed and the entire time my status never changed. Either I like him or I'm telling myself to hate him. Jace did a good job choosing this bet. He couldn't have known it was going to be _this_ hard for me, yet I'm ready to forfeit because….

Because, honestly I'm scared. I hate admitting it but I'm terrified.

I'm afraid that if I trust him he'll betray me and I can't afford to have that happen _again. _The scars are still fading from last time….

I pressed my wrist to my side and tried not to think about it.

For the longest time I've wanted somebody to talk to—somebody to tell me that everything's going to be _okay. _But I haven't had that in years, and now I've got that chance….

I was on the edge of sleep when my phone beeped. 1 message from Simon. _'I didn't know you could sing? That's awesome!' _

_ 'But I can't so…'_ I replied.

'_But you can. And you sounded beautiful. Honestly.'_

I didn't reply for a while, so he asked, '_Ever thought about cross-clustering?'_

'_Please stop.' _I begged. I tried to kill all the butterflies in my stomach. '_Don't say things you don't mean.'_

'_When it comes to you, Isabelle, I mean everything I say.' _

I stared at the screen for a long moment, and then later at the ceiling. Feeling so conflicted now more than ever if I'm going to go with my head or my heart—so cliché, I know. But love is cliché, and like every love-struck teenage girl I'm siding with my heart and hoping I won't regret it in the future. I always do though.

Well this time better prove me wrong.

_Thank you, Simon. _I finally sent.

No way he could still be up—not for me, right? But here was an almost instant reply. _'Just doing my job. Night Isabelle :) See you tomorrow'_

My mind screamed no. My body screamed no. My gut screamed _hell_ no. _Don't get yourself into this mess again Isabelle…._

I squashed my thoughts back down and quelled my pessimism. I've been through hell and back, I deserve to be happy—everyone deserves to be happy. I've been denying it for too long, it's time for a change and I _don't care _what my head says. Before, it was a race I couldn't win.

But now I'm gaining the advantage.


	4. Posses and Patches

**Hey Guys! Thanks so much for staying with me! Sorry about taking so long to update! Writer's block is a BITCH! Anyways, this one is a little bit longer than usual (to make up for the wait) and I actually had to cut bits out so it wouldn't be _too _long-so I guess that means more chapters to write and less time to write them! Who doesn't love that?! This should be the last of the "introduction" chapters, after this it's plot, camera, ACTION! (Get pumped!)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, ya know, except for my ideas and junk :)**

* * *

Posses and Patches

**JACE**

_30 New Messages._

"You're joking, right?" I muttered aloud as I glared down at my tiny phone screen. That would explain why my phone nearly rattled of my dresser last night, and not to mention my fabulously pissy mood. You don't mess with Jace Wayland while he's sleeping—electronically or otherwise. That's a sure way to get on my hit list, and yes, I have one.

I moaned and squeezed my eyes shut again. Can we just pretend it's _not_ Monday and go back to thinking that the collaborative show _isn't_ tomorrow? I really liked my bed right now and school didn't sound like the best alternative. I pried my eyes open stared at that clock for a solid 20 minutes, hoping desperately that the 5:27 would morph back into a 5:26. It never did.

Fuck me. It really is Monday.

Giving up, I yanked my phone off my charger, rolled deeper into my cocoon of covers, and began to click through my multitude of messages. What a 80% of the messages were from the clingy, powder-faced, wannabe girls at school that fought for my attention. Of course—it happened _every single day._

"_Jaaacey!"_

"_Why don't we ever talk?! We should totes talk moree"_

"_Don't you remember what we had last summer? At Jen's party…?"_

"_I love you so much, Jace!"_

"_OMG! We should like, hang out!"_

"_You're so sexy Wayland. Let's be fuck buddies."_

Stop. No.

No. No. No. No. No. All deleted without a second glance.

Moving on….

Another 18%—we're getting technical now—were from Josh and were _all_ about Izzy, as expected.

"_Oh god Jace, I'm dying"_

"_DYING"_

"_Izzy hasn't texted me in TWO. WHOLE. DAYS."_

"_What do you mean she doesn't like me?! Tell me it's BS!"_

"_And we haven't hooked up in like, a week. Jace, this is serious."_

Ugh. This is too much! Josh needs to pipe the fuck down.

I was rapid-fire deleting now. It was habitual—a lot of the same. One from Jackie. Two from Megan. Two from Christina. One from Sydney. Eight from Josh. Three from Audrey. One from Clary.

One from Clary?

My finger stopped short over the delete button and hovered over to the open button instead.

"_I finished it."_

Suddenly, there was a smile on my face.

Now, to anyone else this random message from a random girl would've meant absolutely nothing. But to me it meant a heart-stopping, blood freezing, fear inducing spaz attack. _I can't believe she actually told me._

I messaged her back immediately—and I didn't care if it was 5 a.m. anymore. I needed to see it. I needed to see her.

"_Awesome, haha! Coffee date? Today after school? I want to hear it."_

Now came the unbearable part where you have to go on with life while you wait for them to reply. It could be _hours_ before then! Days! Weeks! Months even! What the hell was I supposed to do before—?

_Bzzzz. _My phone tolled. _1 New Message._

"_Sure, Wayland. See you then."_

What? Instant reply? Really?

I like that. Now _this _is how you start off a Monday morning.

XXX

**ISABELLE**

I'm not quite sure how I ended up here.

It's so rare that I do this. Two years ago I wouldn't have given it a second thought. But now…everyone has a legitimate reason to judge me. Hate me even—and that becomes a _major _problem when you're trying to sit with a new posse at lunch. And here I was, standing in front of a group of people I barely knew, hoping that they've never heard the gossip. Hoping they don't assume. Hoping they don't think of me as "Isabelle Lightwood: School Slut". To everyone else I'm the epitome of confidence. Although in reality, my insides began to churn.

Remind me again why I agreed to do this?

"Connor, Alex, Jonsey, you three know Isabelle." Simon introduced and pointed to me. "Well she's awesome and will be sitting with us from now on."

Oh right, Simon dragged me into this.

I channeled my irritation into a pleasant smile. "Hello!" I greeted in a sing-song voice and took a seat next to Simon, the only person even remotely familiar, while the other three just caught my eye and shouted a nice, welcoming, "Hey, Isabelle!"

That caught me _way_ off guard. I was expecting some whispers, maybe a stare or two—which is what's _supposed_ to happen when you have a reputation like I do—but instead it was the exact opposite. The girls, Alex and Jonsey exchanged wide eyed, excited glances between each other at the sight of me. While the guy, Connor, was too busy to look up from his drawing pad. A typical art kid.

Almost instantly they shot into introductions.

Alex shoved a pale, freckled, eager hand forward. Well _somebody's _excited. "Hi! I'm Alex! Nice to meet you!"

"Same!" I said with equal verve.

"A little about me," she continued, "Junior. Dance cluster. Rep 2 with my best friend, Jonsey." She flicked a thumb to the girl next to her that was smoothing out her dark hair.

"Hey girl hey!" She greeted excitedly.

"Hey! Love the hair by the way."

"Thank you! It's very Anne Hathaway-esque, Fantine, don't you think? Don't even get me started about _Les Mis!"_ She gushed. "And the movie comes out on Christmas?! My little heart can barely handle it!"

"Calm down, Jonsey." Connor nagged. "Just keep singing your songs and you'll be fine." He placed a hand on Jonsey's shoulder, attempting to keep her from an obsessive breakdown, when he glanced sideways at me. "I'm Connor by the way. I'm not that interesting. You're very pretty, Isabelle."

"Yeah!" Alex and Jonsey shouted. "Gorgeous!" And I swear I heard Simon mutter something like "Beautiful."

Well, that was random.

I could instantly feel the blush that quickly painted my cheeks. "Oh, um. Thank you!" I stammered shyly.

"So you agree?" Connor asked intently.

"What?"

"You think you're really pretty?"

"Oh God." Simon mumbled into his hands. "Don't go starting _this_ again."

"You know it's too late for that, Simon." Alex declared. "Once one person quotes Mean Girls, _everyone_ has to quote Mean Girls!"

"And if it you don't like it then…" Jonsey glared. "YOU CAN'T SIT WITH US!"

This sent everyone into tears of laughter and already I felt at home. I had warmed up to them in no time at all. I can't quite explain how the first 10 minutes at Simon's table felt, but it's like they've already accepted me as a part of their group, and that was a really nice feeling. Say what you want about the flawless, fearless Isabelle Lightwood, but not everyone actually _likes _me. Rejection still hurts, I just don't show it.

"So Isabelle, tell us a little more about yourself!" Jonsey asked after a moment and quickly everyone else agreed.

My mouth was glued shut from instinct, but when I saw their eager faces my resolve melted instantly.

_Not everyone wants to screw you over, Isabelle. _

When I spoke I tried sound as friendly and open as possible. I flashed them a dazzling smile, hoping to distract them from the lackluster summary that I'm about to spew. And by the light in their eyes, I knew I had this in the bag.

"Well, I'm Isabelle Lightwood but my friends call me Izzy. I'm a senior in the dance cluster, and I'm in the collaborative show with Simon!"

"Oh yeah! I heard about that!" Alex blurted. Her grey eyes lit up with excitement along with Jonsey's as they obsessed over the dancers in Rep 1. Little did they know how much of a pain in the ass they were to the people actually on the company….

"Ohhh." Conner sighed. "Is this the girl you were talking about, Simon? She's the one that's in your piece that you—?"

"Shut up man!" Simon growled behind clenched teeth as the girls tried hard to stifle their giggling. He shot them an irritated look, attempting to shut them up, but that only made them giggle more.

"I feel extremely out of the loop here."

"It's okay, Izzy. Just forget it. Continue!" Simon stuttered with clipped words.

Okay…

"Um, I'm really into Chemistry and I want to move to New York. I'm kind of obsessed with music, and if you buy me tea I'll love you forever…oh, and you probably know my brother, Jace. He's a dick, ladies, stay away from him." I shot a playful, warning look to the entire table, which was their que to start laughing hysterically.

Alright, I'm done. No more!

"Um, you forgot to say that you can sing, Izzy."

Shut up, Simon!

"No way, really?!" The girls cried.

"Apparently."

"I can too!" Jonsey shrieked, nearly jumping across the table in her elated frenzy. "I cross cluster! I'm in vocal tech!"

"I cross cluster too, but I do percussion! Alex interjected. "In case you didn't know," She added "I'm a rocker at heart." So that would explain her very edgy, short clipped, red hair…but her floral t-shirt made her outer punk rock appearance void.

I'll take her word for it. The more I stared at her, the more I believed it to be true.

"So Connor, you're a senior this year, right?" I questioned while sipping on my vitamin water.

"Oh…yeah." He answered quietly. "Along with you and Simon."

"But we all know you're a five year old at heart, Connor." Jonsey stated, earning a slow glare from Connor. "At least my celebrity crush isn't twice my age!"

"Are we judging, Connor? _Really _judging?! There is no judgment at this table! We've been over this!"

Wait a second. No judgment? Are they serious?

Up until now it was impossible for me to walk by without something thinking that I'm the sleaziest girl in school. Knowing now that I've found a group of people that won't judge me for my…unfortunate title…is something worth smiling about.

Yeah, I'll be sitting here again tomorrow. I never knew what I was missing!

Simon, who had stayed quiet through most of lunch, nudged me on the shoulder. "What are you smiling about, Lightwood?"

"Nothing important really," I sighed. "I'm just glad everything worked out today."

"So…tomorrow?" He murmured, too low for anyone else to hear over Jonsey and Connor's bickering.

"I'll be here."

His smile reappeared just as the bell rang and dismissed everyone to class. Alex, Jonsey and I were headed off to dance. Simon and Conner were headed who knows were. I said my goodbyes and started walking away when Simon caught my arm.

"Hey, see you at rehearsal tonight. Text me later!" He added before he let me go.

Next to me, Alex and Jonsey snickered.

XXX

**JACE**

I saw her before she saw me, which in one way is super cute…but can also come off as a little stalkerish. Not that I meant it in a creepy way—I never do. Well…okay I take it back. Maybe that _one_ time it was a little creepy. But I had to do it! If I hadn't snuck into writing club I wouldn't be going on this date tonight!

A nervous jolt shot through my body. What am I _doing?!_ I don't know how to do this! I don't know how to be Clary's guy! I've got to be cool, but not _too_ cool. Nice, but not too obvious. How does Jace Wayland win over a girl when he can't be Jace Wayland?

Mindfuck! Izzy what have you done to me?

I never thought I would live to see the day I got nervous over a girl. She must know that I'm struggling with this bet she's got pinned over my head. It was a genius move though—I'll give her props for that. As much as I hate to admit it, I know this will be a challenge. And she knows it too.

Even though my ongoing spaz attack was devouring my insides, I couldn't let it show. I stood coolly at my normal spot by the Pegasus and waited for Clary to notice me. I leaned against the wall—my wall—out of the way, but not entirely invisible. I got a couple glances, a few whispers. I winked at a group of freshman girls, which made them jump and squeal—much to my amusement. Nobody approached me but I'm pretty sure everyone knew I was there.

Except for maybe Clary. She was oblivious.

She shot out of the shade like a dart and plunged into the sunlight, frantically searching but not finding. Her backpack was slung sloppily over her shoulder and her hair was in a fraying knot on the top of her head that looked seconds from toppling over. Paint marked her from the elbow down like a trail leading to her hands, one guarding her backpack's strap and the other clutching her art portfolio for dear life. She was a freaked out mess, but she was the only one that mattered to me. She always has been. People just never noticed.

With her back to me, she took a minute to compose herself. She adjusted her bag, redid her hair into the same messy knot, took one look at her arms and said "fuck it'", and then finally she scanned the courtyard and saw me.

_Here we go._

"Alright," She sighed once she was next to me. "Let's go." No smile, no nothing. She cut right to the chase.

"Well hello to you too, little red."

"_Little red?!" _She squealed as we began walking away from campus. Already with the nicknames and ginger jokes, Jace?"

"What? Would you prefer 'orphan Annie'? Or maybe 'Coppertone'? You can decide."

"Haha. Very funny, Wayland." She grumbled flatly.

"So is it true that you have no soul?"

"So is it true that you're an ass?" She retorted.

"I _have _an ass." I responded with a wink. Her cheeks got a little pinker. "A pretty nice one too. You can look, but don't touch—the other girls will get jealous."

"Oh, dear Jesus why am I doing this?"

"Because you think I'm completely irresistible." I whispered seductively into her ear. "And you're getting free coffee."

She glared at me through her lashes. "For the coffee and nothing else."

"We'll see about that!" I smirked.

So much for nice!

Oh, fuck it. I'm doing this my way. I'll get her heart one way or another…I only have until Christmas break….

"Oh! Is Isabelle coming?" Clary blurted.

"Oh. Um, no she's hanging out with Sim—er—some friends before rehearsal."

"Oh, bummer! I hope she has fun. Tell her I said good luck!"

Whew. Dodged the bullet there! I completely forgot that Simon and Clary weren't on speaking terms anymore. That would be extremely acca-awkward if I brought that up right after they split, especially now that Simon's getting all cute with Izzy.

Hold up. Hold up, hold up, hold _up!_

They just split. He's going after Izzy. He wouldn't…would he?

Not with Isabelle…hell no!

I'll be chatting with him later. For now I'll let it go.

"Wait. Do you and Isabelle know each other?" I wondered aloud.

"Yeah! We have a few classes together and we've been friends since freshman year. I guess you can say we know each other!" She playfully punched my side. "Why? Does that bother you? Don't tell me you're the overprotective type!"

"No! No, of course not!" I insisted. It's just that she's practically my sister. I'm surprised I never noticed."

"You say 'practically' like she isn't."

"Because she's not." I explained. "We don't even have the same last name."

"But you live together, right? And you call each other 'brother' and 'sister' so…?"

"So it means we're not related!" I spat, causing Clary to jump. _Calm it down, Wayland! You'll scare her off like that! _ I took a deep breath and tried again. "We're close like a brother and sister, and it's a hell of a lot easier than explaining the whole thing."

"What is the whole thing?"

I met her eyes. They were surprisingly green in the sunlight today. "That's another story, Clary."

Silence.

The school was far behind us now. The frantic roar that was the student population at 4:05 had finally dimmed down because of the distance. Now the only thing that made a sound were the rustle and snaps of leaves and branches as we kept walking toward our destination. We crossed the freeway into uptown and were instantly surrounded by fancy apartment complexes and work buildings. There were a few groups of students trailing along behind us that kept going to the restaurants that filled the area after we peeled off. _2__nd__ date. Pei Wei. _I decided. _That is, if I can make it through this one._

This coffee shop I wanted to go to was in an awkward place. It was too close to drive to, yet not considered a short walk either. It was in an old house in a neighborhood maybe four blocks away from Booker T. It blended in so well; I would've missed it the first time if I wasn't paying attention. But once I walked in and saw they had free Wi-Fi and cheap prices, I was sold. Nobody knows about it either—  
I've never seen anyone from school there and Clary's the first person that I've ever taken.

"Jace, where are we?" Clary worried. "I don't think there's a Starbucks in this neighborhood."

"There's not. Starbucks is in the opposite direction, we're going someplace different."

"Oh. Never mind then."

"I thought visuals were supposed to be all observant and whatnot." I huffed under my breath.

"I am! Art kids are really observant!" She roared. Temper, temper! I always knew the redheads were feisty! "I'm just observant of different things." She reasoned. "I don't always see the obvious when I'm discovering the hidden."

I took a moment and let that sink in. "Wow…that was deep."

"I'm a deep person."

"Really, Clary?"

"Really! Don't test me like that, Jace."

"Well, I can't take you seriously when you have paint on your nose like that!

Instantly her face turned crimson red as her hands shot up to hide her face, which only drew attention to her paint stained arms. I grinned, but of course she would never see.

"Hey, hey, hey!" I grabbed her hand and pulled it off her cheek. "Paint on your face really doesn't mean anything!"

"But you just said—!"

"Forget what I said! I think it's cute!"

She flushed again, even deeper this time. "Fine! Fine. Whatever, Jace!"

"Oh, now you're mad at me?"

"Yes! No. I don't know! I just didn't want to act stupid around you."

"Well you're doing a fine job." I assured as we approached the old house. I stepped up the creaky wooden stairs before her, holding the door open while getting a strong whiff of fresh coffee beans. "I've never thought such a thing about you, Clary."

She smiled slightly and glided into the shop. "Thanks, Jace."

I let the door swing shut behind me and rushed to meet her at the counter. Not that it mattered since Clary was taking her time observing the place. The walls were painted a pale spring green, illuminated by the light streaming in through the widows that covered every wall. There were couches, love seats, tables, chairs, separate rooms with more couches and chairs and candles, the whole shebang—this shop just _screamed_ posh. Everyone here had their posh laptops out and their posh iPads and were sipping on their posh lattes staring through their posh reading glasses and scrolling through their posh literature. I couldn't help but think that they're judging me every time I walk in. All I've ever done in this place was order coffee and leave. Finally I'll be able to sit down and do something profound. Like read poetry.

Thank you, Clary.

"I'll take a caramel macchiato and for her…" I looked over at Clary. "You seem like a cider kind of girl."

"Only in the winter. I'll take a green tea latte."

Damn. That's even more posh than cider. Clary fits in better than I do!

I paid for the both of us—just like I promised—and once we had our drinks we made our way to an empty couch. Or…love seat rather. This could get really awkward really fast.

Clary didn't seem to mind. She sat down before I did and instantly started rummaging through her backpack for her poem.

"What happened to 'free coffee and nothing else' Coppertone?"

"I changed my mind, sue me!" I saw her sigh over her things as she whipped out a disheveled blue spiral. "Keep in mind this is my first poem. And it sucks, so I'm sorry in advance." She flipped to the page and handed it to me. "I'm not going to read it out loud either, but you wanted to see it so there you go."

I chuckled lightly and took a sip from my coffee. "So I guess if you won't read it out loud I will."

And so I began:

_A Patch of Neon_

_Slightly twisted, slightly out of control_

_Seemingly crazy, seemingly true_

_A patch of neon in a world of navy blue,_

_That quickly changes to prints to take over you_

_So we might be crazy, but we're a hell of a time_

_We do not conform to society's line_

_We venture where most teens wouldn't dare_

_We obsess, we creep, we laugh, we cry_

_All in front of anyone wanting to watch our show_

_It doesn't matter our place in the web_

_We be what we are_

_We are what we be_

_An animal, a star, a rocker, a whore_

_What does it matter, the approval of society?_

_Approval is our own_

_We are the freak, the outcast, the slut, the genius_

_The obsessive, the self-harm, the gay, the punk, the rocker_

_The true_

_We are who we are_

_We are NOT you._

Slowly, gradually, people started clapping. I swear the look on Clary's face was priceless. "It looks like you're a hit." I laughed and looked around with her. Every single posh person in the shop was clapping, even the cashier. We were all smiling, but just Clary looked straight stunned. I nudged her in the shoulder while she stared at her poem in disbelief. "You okay, Fray?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." She breathed. "Everyone else liked it. Did you?"

"Of course I did. I loved it when it was unfinished, I love it now, and I'll love the next one you share—you're talented Clary Fray. Like a girl version of Ed Sheeran!"

"What?! No way! How do _you _know Ed?"

"I live with Isabelle, don't I?"

"Well that explains it!" She laughed. We both did for a while. We laughed and whined and talked about nothing and everything. People began to leave while we ordered more food and coffee. We were having a good time up until it was time to head back.

By time we reached the Pegasus again the sun was beginning to set over Dallas. The temperature had dropped significantly since the early afternoon and the lights of the city were just starting to pop on. I tried my hardest to keep the conversation going, but for some reason Clary got really quiet really fast. She was lively and chatty at the shop but as we neared the school she only grew more morose. I've done everything I could, at least I knew she was happy at _some_ point, but unfortunately this is where this date had to end.

"Look, I had a really great time Clary…" I started, and she had the saddest look in her eyes.

"But you're just not into me like that? I get it Jace. You don't have to say it." She concluded. "Thanks for the coffee. I'll see you tomorrow."

Wait, what? That has never happened to me in my life.

"Clary!" I called after her. She was walking away fast, but I caught her by the wrist and pulled her closer towards me. Almost _too _close. Our bodies were pressed together, our faces were only inches apart, and I had to fight back the massive urge to kiss her right now. Just like I've had to for three years. But she didn't try to pull away. She stayed and looked up at me with those wide green eyes, too stunned to speak.

"Maybe I am." I breathed. "Maybe I'm into you like that." Surely she could feel my raging pulse right now, this is just embarrassing. "I'm really glad we got to hang out today, and we should do it again….Like on Friday."

"Friday? This Friday?"

"Yeah, come to my show. If not for me then for Isabelle."

She sighed and then nodded, eyes still locked on mine. "Yes, I'll be there."

"Okay." I smiled.

"Okay." She grinned.

We stayed like that for a long minute. Close and silent and still and oh so slowly I leaned in….

To kiss her on the cheek. Nothing too risqué on the first date. Not with this one.

"Goodnight, Clary." I said simply.

"Goodnight, Jace."

We separated and instantly I longed for her warmth. It almost hurt to see her walk away.

"Oh, Jace." She added and looked over her shoulder.

"Maybe I'm into you like that too."

XXX

I didn't get home until 10 that night, but the first thing on my mind, surprisingly, was _not_ sleep.

I booted up my laptop and opened up a word document. Now I finally have something to write about for this stupid paper Izzy wants.

Damn bet.

On any other night this would've pissed me off a lot more, but how could I be upset when my date was a total success? And I've got another date on Friday?

I'm better at this than I thought!

Just then Izzy rattled on my door. "I hope you're writing your paper, Jace since your date went so well!"

"I am! Calm down!" I called back. "Wait, what are you doing down here? Why aren't you sleeping?"

"I'm catching up on American Horror Story!"

"It's 10 o'clock at night!"

"Like I give a fuck! You sure you don't want to watch?"

"Nope! I'll be there in a second!"

Quickly, I started to type.

_Izzy, I hate your for making me write this. But if this is what I have to do to prove it, I'll do it. So here it goes._

_You asked me why I like her—and this after a three year crush and one date—but you still want to know. So I'll tell you this._

_I have no fucking idea. Clary Fray confuses the shit out of me._

_But there's something about her, she's different. Call me crazy, but I like—no—_love _that about her._

_And nothing is ever going to change my mind._

* * *

**Thanks so much! Reviews are lovely! Follows/Favorites are lovelier! Questions are always welcome and get psyched for chapter 5!**


	5. Fire and Darkness

**Hey Guys! Happy day before spring break! Sorry again for the long wait, but this is where things get interesting ;) **

**In the last chapter Isabelle met up with Simon for lunch and got introduced to his posse, Connor, Jonsey, and Alex accepted Isabelle without question and it's the beginning of a great friendship! On the flip side, Jace had a WONDERFUL date with Clary where she showed off her amazing writing skills with her completed poem "A Patch of Neon". The date was such a success that Jace scored another date with her that coming Friday to come to closing night for the collaborative show. He also found a little inspiration for this paper he must write for Isabelle...**

**Please read and review! Hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

Fire and Darkness

**ISABELLE**

There was still a hum in the classroom even after the bell tolled. Signaling what should've been the start of class, but was actually just some loud annoyance that was dismissed after a glimpse at the time. Mr. Asher was still in the hallway, having a conversation with the other chemistry teachers as the leader of their cult, only just pausing to glance at his class that was quickly turning to riot. He sighed with that standard "Asher" look on his face, the look that's so wise, like he knows how everything and everyone works in this world but would never in his life share all his secrets. He dismissed the cult and stepped into the classroom, awarding those who _weren't _trying to start a fire in the back of the room with a nod of approval.

"So you guys _are _ready for the quiz we're having this morning right?" He announced to catch everyone else's attention. "You should be, since I gave you five minutes to study." He pointed abruptly at the board, which read clearly: "You have 5 minutes to review for your quiz over moles."

I surveyed the room, laughing silently along with Mr. Asher as we watched the kids' faces pallor over the news. I wasn't concerned in the slightest—this time around I knew what I was doing.

"Ready to fail?" Simon joked as he slid into his empty seat.

"Ready to ace!" I countered. "I think you forgot that I have a 100 in this class."

"Of course I didn't!" He bellowed. "Why else would I mooch off your answers?"

Mr. Asher shot him a cold but kidding glance. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that." He muttered to us.

"You, Simon Lewis, will be 100% screwed on the exam this semester. I guarantee!" I teased, already solving the first problem of the quiz before Simon even wrote his name down.

"Not if we sit in alphabetical order I won't! I promise you, I will ace!" He paused briefly to stare menacingly at his blank test. He rhythmically tapped his pencil for a long while and resisted the urge to look at my answers.

"You know what? I'll ace after I fail this one, I'm screwed."

XXX

"So let me get this straight," Alex speculated. "Simon did _so bad _on his chemistry quiz last class that now you have to do a full-fledged _project _over it?"

"Hey! The whole class did badly." Simon defended, gaining some color to his cheeks.

"Except for me," I bragged. "Guess who got a 100?"

"Yeah, and guess who didn't cheat." He muttered, munching on a carrot stick.

"And guess who did?" Connor butted in before returning to his sketch. Simon just stared at him like _"What the hell?!"_

"I appreciate the effort, Simon," I chimed in. "But the time you could've taken to cheat off me, or maybe even—gasp—_study!" _I playfully nudged his arm. "Would've been miniscule compared to how long it's going to take to finish this presentation."

"See, now you're just blowing things way out of proportion. You're good at this moles stuff and I'm a freakin' genius at posters and powerpoints. You think up some hard-ass questions for the class, I throw something together and boom! We're done!"

"Well, I hope it's that simple. It's not like we have that much time."

"It's due next Friday." Simon informed

"That's one week from today!" I whined. "And I'm a busy person! I have stuff to do!"

"Don't get so worked up, Isabelle!" He pleaded, clutching my arm to calm me down. The touch sent pleasant shivers throughout my body. "I'll be over this weekend." He assured. His brown eyes were staring into mine as he smiled warmly. This sent my heart into a faint flurry.

"Okay?" He murmured.

"Okay." I replied.

No one else at the table noticed us. No one noticed our little moment. But I did. I noticed how my pulse sped up a little every time I smiled at me. I noticed that I've been thinking about him more, and hanging out with him more, and talking to him more….

But most of all I noticed that warmth in my heart. Like a fait ray of sunlight awakening something dormant.

And then the drop. The fear that rooted in my stomach that crept and stung like knives in the darkness. I know now that it can leave me senseless, emotionless, this fear can freeze me to nothing. But I have to let it melt. My heart has frozen over and slowly, slowly, I could feel it coming back to life—and that scares the shit out of me.

I'm going into this blindly, but what's the point in saying no? Better to have tried than to convince myself otherwise. And so what if Jace was the push? I'm the one that's letting it happen!

I can _so _win this bet….

"How is it still this hot in October?" Conner whined as he collapsed onto Jonsey and pretended to faint.

"Well, October only started one week ago. Technically it's still summer for Dallas." She reasoned.

"And if you want to cool off, just eat inside." Alex suggested, slowly fanning herself while the rest of us shed a few layers. The sun was beaming down hard in the Green Room and a hot breeze blew through, rustling the leaves on the tiny trees that dotted the place and making everyone just a little too warm.

Right now the heat was a bitch, but the Green Room was one of the best things about this school. Students could eat lunch in the outdoor courtyard that doubled as a theater where music ensembles and bands can perform on stage. There were days like today where the weather was decent and everyone wanted to eat outside. And then there were the rare days when it was cold and rainy and everyone had to cram into the too-small cafeteria.

Luckily today was not one of those days, obviously.

The Green Room was entirely concrete, and no, it's not green. It sloped upwards just like any other amphitheater and along with trees and stage lights, there were various painted trash cans and picnic tables that were decorated by the visuals. However, 75% of the students chose to eat on the ground. Partially because there were only 5 tables, but we're arts kids! We don't really _need _tables….

Only at Booker T!

"Shit maaan! I'm _fucked!" _I recognized Parker's animated voice as he plopped into a seat next to Simon with his head in his hands.

"What's up dude?" Simon asked and clapped his shoulder. A look of concern slightly coated his face.

"I've got a gig in two weeks and Chris just bailed! What the hell am I supposed to do?!"

"Hey man I've got your back! Count me in. I play bass!"

Parker lifted his head and his long, dark hair draped like a curtain over his face. "No shit man, really?" He mumbled from behind it.

"Yes shit, hit me up before the next practice. I'll be there."

"Alright!" Parker flipped his hair out of his face and gave Simon one of his bro hugs. "Thanks dude, you just saved my ass!" He hopped off the bench and glided away, jamming his fist in the air screaming, "I'm not fucked! I repeat, I am NOT FUCKED!" And the entire Green Room laughed along with him. Booker T. loved Parker.

"You know he looks exactly like Jacob Black? Not Taylor Lautner, but actually _Jacob Black._ Long hair, muscles, and everything." Alex muttered.

"Yeah, but don't tell him that, he'll flip shit." Simon warned. "So are you coming to my concert now?" He asked eagerly, obviously addressing the whole table, but only speaking to me.

"Yeah, I think I will! I want to see this whole bass guitar thing you've got going on!" I turned to Jonsey, Alex, and Conner. "Do you guys want to come too?"

"I'll tag along!" Jonsey exclaimed.

"You're talking to the rocker here. Of course I'll be there!" said Alex.

"I'll have to ask! I'll try, I really will, Simon!" Connor promised.

"It's cool buddy, thanks guys."

Everyone babbled their assurance as the regular flow of conversation started to filter back in.

"So, if you guys are going to _Simon's _show, that means you're coming to my closing show tonight, _right?"_ I asked. Alex and Jonsey weakly agreed and Connor gave a slow nod, all dodging giving a real answer. "So supportive you guys. Thanks a ton!" I muttered sarcastically.

"Hey, Izzy! You'll know I'll be there!" Simon pointed out.

"Simon you're _in _the show."

"But I'll be watching you the whole time! Isn't that enough?"

"How about you focus on the music and then we'll talk? If you guys mess up we're all screwed…."

"Well then you just make it through the dance! It's not like it's easy!"

"Don't worry about me! I've made it through fine before, I can do it again!"

"You guys bicker like a couple." Jonsey interrupted.

"It's actually quite cute." Alex added.

Simon and I only had time to shoot them red faced death stares before the bell sent us to our next class. Simon stuttered a goodbye and peeled off quickly. I did the same, failing to hide my obvious embarrassment.

Still at the table but not quite out of ear shot, I could hear them. A quick whisper, a mutter, and a giggle that sounded a lot like Jonsey saying:

"I'm totally shipping Sizzy."

XXX

**JACE**

"So I know we're not going to sit around and eat mu-shu pork in silence until the show stars, so go ahead and ask whatever's on your mind." Clary sighed and rested her chin on her clenched hands. Irritation was evident in her careless expression; she was obviously unimpressed.

Date number two was off to a rough start.

Cocking her head to the side, she studied the eyes that were studying her. "Why the face, Wayland?"

I smirked and stared back at her, laughing to myself when I saw the corner of her mouth twitch up then snap back down. "I'm just trying to figure you out."

"I could say the same." She replied while slightly leaning over the table. Her eyes were blazing in the dim light of the restaurant. But something seemed to click in her head, as if she remembered an unpleasant memory, and quickly she fell back into her seat. Her eager expression soon dropped. "But it's not like I'm some big mystery or anything." She huffed and said nothing more as her eyes danced around the room, paying no attention to my existence.

She was fidgety today. Her whole body was tense and uncomfortable. Her fingers drummed impatiently on the hard table and I could only watch as I saw the beginnings of a scowl start to show. Clary's clouded eyes connected with mine. What once were clear emeralds were now seeping with rage. I held her gaze, silently searching for any inkling of happiness, any hint of interest that may be buried too deep for me to see.

I came up empty handed.

"What? Have something to say to me?" Clary grunted coldly.

Her sudden harshness caught me off guard but I refused to let her eyes go. "Clary, you're different from every other girl at school, the opposite of average. I'm stuck trying to figure out why."

Almost instantly her attitude crashed.

Her eyes darkened to the deepest shade of green and later stood out as her cheeks flushed red with anger. In just seconds her features morphed into a tight lipped grimace as she crossed her arms over her nonexistent chest, and this time when _she_ held _my_ gaze it was purely out of temper and fear. To have so much ferocity welled up in such a tiny girl was in no way okay. She looked ready to explode, and sure enough she would explode on me.

"So you think this is a game, right?" She gave a sardonic laugh. It made my blood run cold. "I'm the trophy you get to play around with and brag about to all of your dick friends! Just because I showed no interest before now you just _have_ to have me! Classic!"

"That's not true, Clary! I would never do something like that—not this time. I can change—I—"

"Jace, just stop faking it. I'm not an idiot like the other girls you mess around with. I know whatever _this_ is," Her hand gestured between the two of us. "I know it's not real."

"Clary. I promise you, you're not a game! Please just calm—"

"And don't _tell_ me to calm down." She growled. "I can handle myself just fine without you."

Her retorts were like a stinging slap to the face. A jab to the heart. Even I was surprised when I replied. "Why the sudden change in attitude? You were into me on Monday! We had a great time and that was just 4 days ago!"

"Oh, yeah! Monday!" She laughed sarcastically. "Don't get so cocky, Jace. That was before your pack of skanks attacked me and told me everything, Mr. 'Bachelor or Booker T.!'"

My heart stopped at the sound of my unfortunate nickname—a term only used by those who REALLY hated me. I hoped it would stay secret from her, but that was impossible. Girls liked to talk, especially the bitter, jealous ones that were pissed to see "their guy" with another girl. I should've seen this coming. It's not like it hasn't happened before.

"I should've never said yes in the first place." She grimly shook her head. "What the hell was I thinking?

Fuck. This was beyond disastrous.

At first she only knew the obvious about me. But now? Oh, I'm in deep shit. Now she knows every dirty detail. Every dick move I've ever made. I can't charm my way out of this one, she's too smart for that.

Shit. Shit. Shit!

"So you know everything now, don't you?" I asked. I already knew her answer.

"I'm not stupid, Jace. Of course I do." Clary scoffed. "And all the things you did to those girls! I'm an actual idiot for trusting someone like you!"

A jolt rippled through my body. It froze me to the core.

It was another time. Another person. But those dreaded words hurt all the same.

_I'm a complete idiot for trusting you, Jace, so leave me the hell alone! Go on fucking other girls for all I care. You obviously don't give a shit about me anyways._

The familiar phrase replayed in my head, bringing back the suffocating wave of guilt that I've been repressing for the past 3 years. I clenched my fists at my side. I haven't forgotten—unfortunately, it's one part of my past that won't leave me. It's the one thing I regret the most. Just hearing Clary throw those words at me…it's just a repeat reaction of everything that I caused. Everything that I swore wouldn't happen again.

I stayed silent and let her rant, trying my absolute hardest to block out every truth she told, eyes down as I willed my stalled heart to beat again.

Silence.

"You're not going to try to deny it, are you?" Her voice was thick.

"No, because then I'd be a dirty bastard _and_ a liar." I took a lungful of air but my heart still refused to beat. "I don't want to be either around the girl I like."

Her eyes narrowed to slits as she shot me an icy stare. "Since when did you become so interested in me?" She sneered.

"Longer than you can imagine, Clarissa Fray."

Again, a silence passed before she spoke.

"No. Not again."

Out of nowhere I heard her voice waver. Was she not livid just 2 minutes ago? Now I looked up to see her eyes brimmed with tears, both angry and sad.

"I'm not falling for this one. Not again."

"What?" I stared at her in disbelief. "Clary! Just wait! Clary—!"

"I can't do this…." Her voice was merely a whisper. She shook her head fervently and rose from her seat.

And without a second glance she left me at that table, utterly alone.

XXX

A golden light was cast over Dallas. Stunning, yet unfitting. My Friday night disaster wasn't over yet.

Luckily, Clary wasn't a fast runner.

"Clary!" I yelled out to her just as the crosswalk sign flashed 'WALK'. She bolted across. "Clary! Let me explain!" I cried. "Please!"

I caught up to her at the shady underpass near the school. The rubble crunched louder under our feet as we both sped up. "Clary…." I clasped her wrist and swung her around, drawing her closer to me.

Her right hand cracked hard across my face.

Green eyes that were filled with malice met mine with a menacing glare. Her chest rose and fell unevenly as her breath came out in short, sharp gasps, and a frustrated moan escaped her tightly drawn lips. "Give me one good reason why I should stay here and go to this goddamn show with you!" She snarled. Absolutely terrifying.

I raised a hand to my aching cheek that was slowly starting to swell. I winced away from the touch. The girl had a dangerous swing.

Regardless of my face I tried to answer her question.

"Because I…." There was a whoosh of breath but no answer. "I just—I—"

Now this is just embarrassing.

"I guess I really don't have a good answer..." I muttered, pushing my fingers through my hair then shaking it out. "All I know is that I like you. And this is all new for me, really..." I nervously shoved my fists in my pockets, and lucky for me the blood that rushed to my cheeks was hidden by the redness of my one cheek. "I know that I feel something different this time, and I wanted you to feel the same way...about me..."

She ripped her wrist away from my grip. Her face flared up like mine, but her stony expression was still unforgiving. Her words were clipped, cold. "Well, you don't always get what you want. Especially when you don't deserve it."

"What makes you think I don't deserve it? Why does it have to be like that?" I whined and forced myself closer to her. "Tell me, Clary. Honestly."

"Because you're you!" She fumed, jabbing a finger into my chest. Our faces inches apart. "You're Jace Wayland, the inconsiderate ass!"

"You know what? I am so tired of this _fucking _ title everyone has for me!" Now it was my chance to get irritated. "Wayland this, Wayland that every single day! Do you guys ever stop to think that maybe there's a chance I'm not what you think I am? Just once?!"

I saw Clary shrink back, and somewhere deep down I knew I was probably scaring her. Or at the least massively confusing her. If I don't stop now I'll start spitting fire for sure...

"Are you crazy, Jace? What the hell am I supposed to think?! I've only even seen you be a massive dick—!"

"Well I haven't always been this way! I wasn't always the jackass! Not since the crash!" I yelled. Now our rage was equal. "By the _angel!_ Sometimes shit changes people! I thought you would understand—unlike every other girl I've dated! They were too dim to get it!"

By now her face was stone cold, emotionless. "What crash?" She muttered.

My pulse froze once again. My mom did say once that my big mouth was going to be the death of me...

"Just forget it. It doesn't matter." I sighed quickly. This time _I_ stormed off when the sign flashed.

She chased after me, her little footsteps clacking hard against the pavement. "What crash Jace?"

When I didn't answer her voice rose.

"Damn it, Jace! Just tell me!"

I kept my lips sealed.

This time she sprinted and ran in front of me, completely blocking path of my rage-walking. I halted abruptly on my toes, fighting to keep my balance but toppling slightly into her outstretched arms that held me still.

She yanked me down to her level. "Tell me or I'm not going with you."

I let out the breath I was holding, and for a second I thought of calling the whole thing off. What was the point of all of this if she wasn't going to give me the time of day? Why fight it? Why even try...?

I stopped mid thought. I could almost _hear_ Izzy's smug laugh in my ear. It made me shudder. How satisfied would she be if I lost this bet? I would never hear the end of it...And I don't even know what she would want if I lost—Izzy's fucking insane with stuff like that...!

Clary's death grip tightened around my shoulders, yanking me out of my temporary nightmare and bringing me back to my _current_ nightmare. My irritation was still present. "What. Crash. Jace?" She asked again. Quit dodging the question and just fucking answer—!"

"The plane crash that killed my parents, Clary! Is that enough for you?!"

She froze.

There was absolute silence.

Cars whizzed by for who knows how long, but her body stayed locked.

"…"

"You okay, Fray?" I asked after a long moment.

"Are _you_ okay?" She replied.

"Yes and no." I answered truthfully. "But don't worry about the inconsiderate ass. Ya know, it's what I deserve and all that." I said, putting my hands on her shoulders and pulling away from her. I avoided her eyes. "I enjoyed spending the day with you Clary, regardless. Have a nice weekend."

I started away from her, wallowing in a reluctant defeat, when I felt a tiny hand latch onto my arm.

I kept walking but guided her with me. "Whatcha doing, Coppertone?"

"I'm coming with you. I'm staying." She replied quietly. "Not just now. I'm staying until I find the old Jace."

After those reassuring words, I couldn't help but smile. And after she slid her fingers into mine, my pulse couldn't help but spike.

I have to keep going. If she's going to try, I have to try too.

We turned into the school's back parking lot then, taking our time down the steep steps by the side of the ever dangerous sculpture yard. We saw straight through the glass doors, past the faulty metal detectors that have long since been turned off, and into the hectic scene. Dancers half-dressed scrambling back and forth between the studios on the zero floor and the theater down the hall, musicians wielding their instruments and trying to stay out of the dancers' path, one or two parents looking lost. It was standard show night. Clary and I both laughed at the sight as I swung the door open and stepped inside.

"So this is where we part." I said simply. "Will I see you after?"

"You will..." She gracefully released my hand and rocked back on her heels like she had something more to say. "I, um," She started. The blush came creeping back. "I'msorryandgoodluck!" She blurted. She said the last part so quickly that I almost missed it.

Not that it mattered, since I forgot all about the luck she wished me when she raised up to kiss my pinkish bruise that was surprisingly close to my lips.

However, I distinctly remember the pain being on the opposite cheek...

XXX

**ISABELLE**

The studio was loud. As it always was during intermission, but hey, if the cast wanted to get pumped about the second half of the show by throwing an all-out dance party, I wasn't going to stop them. I was going to dance along with them.

Well, it's not like I had anything else to do! And it was the last show, so what the hell?!

Four songs later, the party ended with a two minute warning from the stage manager. Moans and whines filled the space and slowly, unwillingly, people started falling back into their performance routine. Hair, makeup, costume, warm-up, eat a little, rehearse, wait.

Being in the last dance was killing me. I can't wait and rehearse for much longer….

I glared at the clock for about 5 minutes. _Where the hell could Jace be? Shouldn't he be down here by now? _I thought for the millionth time.

Almost immediately I heard his voice echo in the near empty studio. Speak of the devil.

I glanced at the door, a grin forming when I saw my snazzy brother saunter in. A grin that soon fell at the sight of Jace's right hand man. This boy looked _way_ too happy to be walking into a room with an abundance of fit girls in skimpy costumes.

Will my distaste for Josh _ever _let up?

"What's up, Izzy?!" Josh hollered and made a beeline for me, attacking me in a not-so-soft hug as his dress shirt scratched against my bare skin.

Nope. I'll continue to hate him. Sorry I'm not sorry, Josh.

"Hands off!" Jace intervened. "She's only got a bra and shorts for a dance costume, don't think I don't know what's going on in your head right now." He shot Josh a look of disapproval.

"Hehehe…" He snickered before slowly drawing away. "Text me later, okay? I'll _so _be in the mood." He raised his eyebrows and his eyes grew sly.

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is how Josh gets girls.

"Oookay, I seriously don't need this right before a show!" I lightly shoved him away. "I'm going to find Simon! Jace, come with?"

"Yeah, I'm with you!" Jace coughed uncomfortably. "Have fun with the other girls, Josh!" He called over his shoulder as I dragged him out of the room. Josh was baffled at first, but the smug smile returned once some of the dancers started to make a move on him. Typical.

Taking a sharp right to the steps in the direction of the orchestra hall, I let out an exasperated sigh. "I can't _stand _him, Jace!" I threw my hands in the air. "He won't ever leave me the hell alone!"

"Well, that's what you get for hooking up with him!" He chuckled from behind.

"It was only twice!" I exclaimed. "But I guess that's not including makeouts either…"

"TMI! I don't need to know this!" Jace shouted and jogged ahead of me.

"Oh so now _I'm _the bad guy now?! _Please! _I bet your number is double!"

"Actually, Isabelle, I've _never _slept with Josh."

"Oh, hush you know what I mean! Quit teasing me like that!"

He laughed himself all the way to the second floor where he glided into the orchestra room to retrieve Simon. I parked it outside the door and waited silently for them to get situated. I peered into the large, crowded hall through one of the large glass windows. Chairs and stands were lined up perfectly and the pristine podium sat empty at the front. Various awards lined the walls while pianos, xylophones, and other percussion instruments crowded the corners. I glanced to the right and saw Simon packing up his cello while Jace grabbed his and Josh's violins.

I fell back and waltzed around the open space around the music rooms, but not daring to enter either of them. There's this unsaid rule at Booker T. about how you can't really go into another cluster's space without a good reason. If you do, you end up getting about a billion terrible looks from everyone in the room, so it's best to just know your place. It seems silly, but at the same time it's totally valid. Our rooms are sacred to us and we're protective about our shit.

After a quick moment, Jace came out with a case in each hand and delight on his face.

There was something else on his face too. This morning it was 100% perfection, but now it was marred by a slight pink welt on his left side—and it took me all but three seconds to put two and two together.

So this date was a feisty one, huh?

"Damn." I whispered and traced a finger along his cheek. "I told you she was tough, didn't I?"

"Yeah, I'll have to start taking your warnings more seriously." He said shyly. "Is it noticeable?"

"Is what noticeable?" Simon asked, finally ready to go. When he came out the door he took one look at me and then glued his eyes to the floor. Probably due to my lack of clothing….

I'll have to tease him about this later.

"This thing on his face!" I replied bluntly, bringing the attention back to Jace. I grabbed his chin and turned it towards Simon. "See? Do you think it looks bad?"

Jace shook his was out of my light grip and glowered down at me. His eyes were filled with alarm and irritation, like I just let out some huge secret or something….

"Ouch, Jace." Simon winced. "Who'd you get that from?"

Oh. Yeah, I probably shouldn't have brought this up just now.

Clary and Simon were still on the rocks, and he would probably get upset if he found out his ex-best friend/girlfriend was with the biggest heartbreaker in school. Just like Clary would be pissed if she knew what direction Simon and I were going in….

Note to self, don't bring our relationships up in conversation.

We had just reached the first floor when Jace coolly replied. "Oh, Ashley caught me after school today." He lied swiftly.

Nice save. If I didn't know any better I wouldn't have questioned it either. Jace is really good at this whole heartbreaker/charisma/persuasive thing. He could have everyone wrapped around his finger if he wanted to, and he knows it.

"It looks like it hurt—I'm glad I can say that's never happened to me!" Simon added.

"Yeah, she's got a good swing, but I'm used to this thing by now."

"Of course you are." Simon and I mumbled and rolled our eyes in unison. Jace just smirked in response.

By time we reached the bottom floor the stage manager was calling for my piece. "Mrs. Weiss' 'Fire' is on in two! Everyone backstage!"

There was a shuffle as all the dancers exited the studio—some much more confident than others. Both nervousness and excitement swirled in the pit of my stomach. I was ready—I could do this dance in my sleep—but anything could happen now. I could fall, or forget, or pass out on stage….

Why am I psyching myself out like this?!

I shook it out and ran off to join my cast backstage. _No negativity! Only positive thoughts!_ I chanted, and gradually the nerves started to evade.

The cold floor was uncomfortably familiar and the warmth of the stage lights was all too inviting. I smiled and joked lightly along with the rest of the dancers and crew to keep the mood light, but we all knew everyone was feeling the pressure. Nobody starts of nerve free. Not even the most confident of the pack.

When the dance onstage was nearing a close, I took my position in my designated wing, using every last second I had to get myself in the zone.

Just before the lights dimmed, I caught sight of Simon and Jace standing in the wing across from me. With smiles on their faces, they both shot me a thumbs up for good luck.

I'll take what I can get. It was finally here.

Closing show.

XXX

Pointe. Leap. Land. Inhale. Plié. Jump. Turn. Exhale. Pivot. Slide. Fall. Gasp. Roll. Step. Lift. Hold.

Dancing is the most intense form of multitasking. And sometimes, even the basic things are forgotten.

XXX

The roar of the audience was drowned out by a loud ringing that only I could hear, and despite the cold of the theater, my body felt extremely hot.

I felt like I was falling with my feet on solid ground.

The audience disappeared behind a wall of velvet and soon we were all plunged into darkness. We immediately relaxed and fell out of our structured ending pose, almost falling to the floor in exhaustion.

Curtain closed, lights off, we're finally done.

I'm so glad it's over.

Both the musicians and the dancers began to hoot and holler with excitement. High fives and hugs were circling around and everyone was all smiles and congratulations.

Except for me. I felt like shit and nobody seemed to notice.

I took wobbly steps off the stage—my balance wasn't spot on—and breath was weak even though I was gasping for air. My pulse beat hard against my body, my heart was drilling into me like a jackhammer, and my dinner was threatening to make a reappearance.

No. No. Not this tonight.

I tried my hardest to make it to a chair. If I could just sit I should be fine. This will pass like every other time, right?

I sped up my shaky steps. My eyes were dead set on that empty black chair.

This made my head hurt even more.

Somewhere in the distances was a loud CLONG that caught everyone's attention, and for some reason everyone stopped to look in my direction. Alarm and surprise covered their faces.

I raised an eyebrow. "Hi?" I waved faintly.

Then suddenly, everyone around me started rushing and fretting. They kept shrieking something about "so much blood!" and more about "a huge cut!"

I could only catch bits and pieces talking between the ringing. But by the looks of horror they sported while looking at my feet, I kind of got the gist of things.

Sure enough, when I looked down there was my cut up toe. I must've stubbed it pretty hard on that light tree….

"My God, Izzy, are you not in pain?!" Someone else shouted.

"You know, it's funny." I started feebly. The ringing increased and my vision grew a few shades darker. "I actually didn't feel a thing…."

My voice faded out along with sound and sight and feeling.

The last thing I was aware of was a slight suspension before I crashed to the ground and blacked out completely.


	6. Exposed

**Hello Everyone! Happy Memorial Day Weekend! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far! I read every single on of them and you're kind words inspire me to keep writing. I cannot tell you how _super stoked _I am for this chapter-I was up all night last night putting on the finishing touches! So far this is my favorite (and longest) chapter I've written with chapter 5 (Fire & Darkness) coming in a close second. In this chapter there's no more introduction-only plot as the story and characters continue to move forward and develop!**

**SUMMARY (skip if you can remember what happened :)**

**In the last chapter we introduced the last of the "important" characters-the rocker Parker who will make a reappearance later ;) We caught a little bit of SIZZY as their relationship becomes more serious, and for the contrast we saw CLACE go through a rough patch that ended in a fiesty throwdown! Swings were thrown, secrets spilled, we learned what really happened to Jace's parents and why "the crash" was such HUGE deal! It was a disaster for the all too perfect Jace Wayland and all this before the last performance of the show! Of course, he doesn't let it show around the dancers, especially Izzy who is 100% focused and KILLS her performance-but not without nearly killing herself! In this chapter we dig a little-no a _lot-_deeper into why Izzy fainted and how it affects a certain golden boy ;)**

**As a quick note, this chapter marks the real beginning of the "angsty" part of the story-but no more summary! Now we read!**

**Please read, enjoy, review, favorite and all of that good stuff!**

**And no, I don't own any of these lovely characters! But the plot is all mine, you can't have it :)**

* * *

Exposed

**JACE**

The volume increased behind me.

Normally I would just tune it out—the dancers tended to get loud after finishing a performance—but this time it was a different kind of noise that caught my attention. It was slightly more frantic, more serious. Deep in my gut I felt that something was wrong. An uneasy feeling rolled in my stomach, causing my pulse to falter and a light sheen of sweat to break out on my palms, but I quelled my growing apprehension and didn't bother to scope out the scene. Instead I put my grin back on and listened in on the musicians' banter, like always.

My back was turned. I was clueless when I _knew_ I should've been keeping an eye on her. Every other night I did, just to make sure she was going to be okay, but this time I let my egotistic thoughts cloud my judgment. I was mindlessly congratulating my band mates when this horrific scene unfolded.

I was chatting and laughing until I saw Simon's eyes lock on something in the distance, and by the whiteness in his skin and the choked, "Oh no." I knew I couldn't pretend any longer. The uneasiness swelled and crashed. I didn't need Simon's help to know something terrible was happening _right behind me._

I should've listened to my gut.

By time I swiveled around, she was already falling, and at that point nothing else mattered. Not my violin, which I cherished like a child made of gold and carelessly dropped when I rushed to her. Not the obstacle course of music stands and chairs that a plowed through, causing the sheet music to scatter and fall like snowflakes. Not even my classmates, who mostly cleared a path for me, would get in my way. But they all understood; nothing else mattered in that moment except Isabelle.

I only caught her hand, probably saving her from a concussion, but failing change the fact that she was out cold as her body crumbled lifelessly to the ground.

There was a collective gasp, a brief silence, and then—as expected—the freak-out of the entire dance cluster.

"Oh my gosh, Isabelle!"

"Is she going to be okay?!"

"Did she hit her head?!"

"Somebody get Mrs. Walker! She'll know what to do!"

I let out a slow breath, still slightly frazzled by the whole situation, but not as much as the overly excited girls that shrieked around me. Izzy better be glad she can't hear this cacophony. The frantic commotion was causing my ears to ring.

I scooped her up in my arms easily and held her cold body against mine, all too aware of her faint breath and her light pulse that was otherwise unnoticeable. Her legs dangled like dead weight out of my grasp, but her arms and head were curled tightly into my chest, almost as if she was hiding from something. She looked so vulnerable, so fragile…she was the complete opposite from your standard strong and bitchy Isabelle. She was nothing like herself, and she knew what was going on—what she looked like to everyone else—I'm sure she'd hate every second of it.

I needed to get her out of here.

"It's okay everyone!" I announced, and the surrounding uproar dulled to a hum; all eyes turned to glare at me. "She's going to be fine. She didn't hit her head, and I'll let you guys know when she comes to."

A murmur of concern buzzed around everyone backstage, but they didn't stop me when I started to walk away. That was all I needed anyways.

"Whoa, whoa, WHOA." A dictative voice rang out across the wings, growing louder as it approached me, and then cutting off when the owner put a strong hand on my shoulder and whipped me around.

Before me stood a pale, muscular woman, brows knitted into a suspicious expression and red lips tightly pursed. Clad in a sleek blazer and red soled killer heels, with the slight quiff in her dark hair she just barely breeched my chin.

So _this _was the infamous Mrs. Walker.

Heels or no heels, dressed up or casual, dance teacher or not, this lady was still intimidating as hell. So much so, that even people outside of the dance cluster knew of her reputation, and knew not to get in her way. Including me.

Oh, crap. This was the last thing I needed tonight.

"Hi, it's Jace, right?" Mrs. Walker cooed quickly, but didn't give me a chance to answer. "Well, Jace, I'm Kate Walker, your all-in-one dancer, teacher, and physical therapist." She sort of smirked at her own joke before continuing, "Anyways, I teach dance here, which you know already. And if you didn't, then you're probably just an idiot." She snickered to herself and shot me a smile—a smile far surpassed the status of "welcoming" and fit better in the "sarcastic, devilish grin" category.

My body shook with an unfamiliar jolt of fear. Good thing she couldn't tell—she'd eat me alive.

She glanced down at the girl in my arms, and with that same scary smile she hissed in a low voice, "Now, Jace…." She reached up to pat my arm gently, and then with an extreme force yanked me down to her eye level. "What the _fuck _makes you think that you can just sweep away one of my best dancers to do whatever with her on _my_ watch? Hmm?" Her eyes narrowed as she held me there, waiting for an answer that she probably wasn't going to accept.

My heart rate continued to spike, and by now the entire stage was dead silent as they waited to see how I handled this mess. Great.

The small echo seemed to enhance my embarrassing stutter. "Hi. Mrs. Walker. I—um—I'm Isabelle's brother—"

"Oh, really?" I let her cut me off. "As far as I know, her brother graduated two years ago from the visual cluster."

"Oh, um, yes, Alec. He did graduate—but I live with Isabelle!—I'm her adoptive brother. And this," I gestured to Izzy with my eyes. "It's happened before. And Mayrse—our mother—usually lets her sleep it off. And I figured that this time wouldn't be any different than the last…."

She glared at me with disapproving eyes.

"She didn't hit her head so I'm not worried about a concussion," I squeaked. "But I think right now we all just want to get home, especially her…."

My voice died on the last word, and I could feel the tired look on my face. One disaster after the next—it's been a long Friday.

Again, she judged me with those eyes that seemed to find every flaw. It felt like she was taking into consideration every mistake I've ever made. Like judgment day with no mercy. I _really _didn't want to get on her bad side, but I'm starting to get the feeling that it's inevitable.

I should just accept it, shouldn't I?

She gave me the once-over one more time, exhaling only when I saw her nod before dismissing me. "Keep an eye on her tonight," She gave me an approving smile. "If anything comes up don't hesitate to take her to the doctor, even if she doesn't want to. And she won't."

I felt the corners of my mouth pull up in relief and nodded once more.

"You're a good brother, Jace." She added, and then she turned to the wide eyed dancers that had stayed to watch the show. "Alright guys, nothing to see here!" She bellowed. "Everyone go the hell home!"

With that everyone slowly started moving again, and that was my cue to book it down that hallway and finally make my escape.

The cool rush of air breezed by me as I sped down the hallways and clutched Isabelle tighter in my arms. Swiftly rounding around corners and dodging the randomly scattered sculptures and bags, I wanted to gain as much distance between me and the rest of the student body. I didn't want them to see me like this. Tired, defeated, lost—this night has been an absolute mess. Between break-ups and make-ups and shows and faints and fusses, it's no wonder I'm such a wreck. What I needed more than anything right now was a hot shower and some sleep. I needed for this day to officially be _over._

"Jace!" Someone shouted after me. I glanced over my shoulder to see a frantic Simon sprinting to catch up with me.

You're shitting me, right?

I blew him off and kept walking. I did _not _have time for this.

"Jace! Jace, Jace, Jace…." He stutter-stepped his way next to me and matched my stride. "Oh, God." He caught sight of the even paler Isabelle and gasped. "She's gonna be okay, right?"

Without making eye contact I gave him a curt not and sped up my pace.

He broke into a light jog to keep up. "Well, is there anything I can do to—"

"Yes, rat boy, I am _so _glad you asked!" I broke in, my eyes narrowing into teasing slits as I tossed him a sarcastic grin. I'm on edge and he's getting on my last nerve. I needed to shut him up for right now. "Our bags are in the dance studio and my violin is still in the MAT." I said simply.

The scrawny boy looked up at me with careful eyes. "And…?"

"And I need you to go _get _them." My words were clipped. "Go get them and then bring them to my house. Tonight."

Simon's quick steps stopped dead in his tracks, his mouth gaping open as he stared at me incredulously. "You're joking, right?"

I turned to face him, lightly shaking the still unconscious dancer in my arms to emphasize my point. "Do I look like I'm joking?"

His doubtful expression dropped and we both grew silent.

"I know you care about her as much as I do." I said this quietly, almost at a whisper. "I've got to get her home, Simon, you know that."

He must've heard the tension in my voice because all of his irritation left him in a slow, steady breath. I watched his brows knit as his eyes passed over Izzy, and for an instant I saw a flash of pain, of true concern that went just beyond the anxiety shown over a good friend. He looked like he actually cared….

No. I can't let him off the hook yet.

The now familiar feeling of uneasiness returned. _It's too soon. _I thought. _Nobody moves on that quickly—and even if they do they don't go after a friend. It's just not right…. _

And just like that I forgot about this ongoing game.

My wariness towards Simon based on my preconceived hunch, the one where I believed he was using Isabelle to get over Clary, wasn't just a factor in this bet anymore. Right now, under the severity of the present, I was truly worried about Isabelle, and her passing out wasn't even the half of it. Everything about Simon's intentions just seemed wrong. I wanted to believe that he was a good guy and wasn't going after Izzy for all the wrong reasons, but I know how dickish guys can be. I'm probably the best example. But he's an idiot if he thinks he can get away with it. And I'm an idiot if I let it happen.

Win or lose, if he breaks Izzy's heart, I'm breaking his face. No exceptions.

Simon's fists clenched and unclenched at his sides while his eyes continued to dart back and forth between me and Izzy. After a quick moment, he grunted in frustration and threw his hands in the air. "Fine!" He spun on his heel and started towards the theater. "I'll do it. But not for you, no, this is for her!" With his back to me, he raised his arm in the air gave me the finger. "Don't get it twisted, Wayland! I still don't like you!"

I laughed out loud and shook my head. "Wouldn't have thought it any other way, rat boy!"

XXX

We were 10 minutes out before I heard a whimper. There was a rustle as she lethargically shifted in the reclined leather seat, my too-large jacket that fell past her bottom twisting around her thin body as she moved. I allowed intermittent glances at her while still keeping my eyes on the road. A small smile grew as I saw her draw her knees to her chest.

I kept one hand on the wheel while the other adjusted the heat. She winced at the initial blast of cold but melted back into her seat once the car started to warm up. "Thank you," She whispered feebly with her eyes still closed.

I placed a gentle hand on her head. "How are you feeling, Izzy?"

"Ifeernmrmds…" She attempted to answer, but her response sounded nothing like English. She was probably too wiped out to answer open ended questions….

"Nod if it's a yes, okay?" I asked, hoping for her cooperation.

She nodded and my smile grew wider.

"Do you remember what happened?"

A little nod.

"Are you feeling sick?"

A pause, then she shook her head.

"Does your head hurt?"

An immediate nod.

"I'm sorry." I murmured quietly and patter her head. "Do you want to go to the doctor?"

She shook her head with an almost audible "No."

Well, Mrs. Walker was right. I should've guessed.

"Are you feeling sleepy, then?"

She nodded.

"Do you want to go home?"

Another nod.

"Do you want music?"

This time she just smiled and sighed, and I fingered through the various CDs she'd made for me. I found one labeled "Chill~"—one of her old favorites I knew—and put it in. She nodded slowly in approval.

I laughed silently and kept quiet as the hushed music filled the car, despite the questions that were bouncing around in my head and demanding answers. Has she eaten? Was she drinking enough water? She hasn't been skipping meals again, has she? Should I tell mom about this? Is she hiding something from me…? They wouldn't shut up, but they weren't the kind of questions I should ask now.

3 songs passed before I spoke again. "Can I ask you more questions later?"

A loud moan escaped her lips and her brow furrowed as she shifted again, this time uncomfortably. She muttered something sharp under her breath. I couldn't catch it, but reluctantly she sighed and nodded.

"Good." I replied. She responded with a curt "Humph!" and turned away from me.

"Well I'll let you sleep first! And then I'll make sure Mayrse makes a nice breakfast for tomorrow morning, oh, and you can keep the jacket for now, also." I paused. She exhaled.

"Do you want me to stop talking?"

"Yes. Shut up." She murmured into her sleeve and curled into herself tighter. I had to resist the urge to pull on her braid or something.

I rubbed her back instead. "Alright Izzy, sleep tight. We'll be home in 10."

She threw a thumbs up over her shoulder and then fell back into sleep. Her breathing was steady, and only a few seconds passed before I heard a soft snore over the hum of the car and the crescendo of her favorite Bon Iver song.

I forced my eyes off of her and back onto the road, a difficult task after tonight's disaster. As of right now I didn't want her out of my sight, but I knew Izzy would be pissed if she knew I was being so protective of her. She's too independent for that.

Although, tonight was the first time in a long time—the first time since the crash—that she's trusted me like this, and right now I'm just hoping it can stay this way. And I'm hoping it has nothing to do with the fact that she was out like light and couldn't say otherwise….

Let's just pretend it's true.

Just this once I'll allow myself to pretend.

XXX

**ISABELLE**

I awoke again to find myself buried and twisted under a mound of fresh smelling sheets, wondering for the millionth time how I'd managed to yank my covers into disarray during the night, especially when I was 98% sure I didn't get into my bed on my own accord. I took a steadying breath and unintentionally heated the suffocating cocoon. Just under the scent of a flowery laundry detergent, a familiarly sporty smell registered, and upon glancing at my appearance I'm guessing it's this oversized jacket I've been stuffed into.

Jace. Of course he's being the savior once again.

I shifted in a huff. The cocoon tightened to that of a strait jacket.

I stiffly rolled out of bed and took the covers with me. Mom would redo it later anyways.

The load lessened as I made the seemingly long hike to the adjoined bathroom, thanks to the shoes and bags that littered the floor and snagged off the trailing sheets, I stood in front of my mirror in only Jace's unflattering jacket while my grotesque reflection stared back at me. Smeared lips, hazy eyes, the caked on blush stood out on my pale and now imperfect skin. My head ached from the elaborate French braid Mrs. Weiss insisted on along with the 50 bobby pins that held it together and the half gallon of helmet inducing hairspray.

I sighed and turned the shower on full heat, crying a little bit at my sharp decline of appearance, but eagerly awaiting the stinging hot streams.

I'll have to apologize to Jace later for using up all of the hot water, but as of right now I'm nowhere near sorry.

What's one cold shower for the shining superhero?

XXX

**JACE**

_Oh. Shit._

I gasped as I shot up in bed with wide, bulging eyes, and a ragged exhale escaped as my heart thrashed against my chest. I'm not quite sure how it happened, but the next thing I knew the lights were on, the music was blaring, and with my sheets around my ankles I stood in the middle of my room with my phone was shaking in my unsteady hand. My heard hardened at the thought of unlocking it.

Some say horror movies are scary, but 5 missed calls from Clary made me want to jump out my 2nd story window. Screaming.

Suddenly the door slammed open, shocking my heart once again and causing my phone to clatter to the floor.

"Jesus, Jace! Wake up the whole house why don't you?!" Izzy yelled at the exact moment I dived for my phone.

Once the slender thing was safe in my hand I turned to look up at her. "Your surprise appearance nearly gave me a heart attack, Isabelle!"

"Oh, don't you use full names with me!" She put her hands on her hips and glared down at me. "You're the one making all this noise at 8 AM, Jonathan!"

"Why are you even up? You should still be asleep after everything that happened last night!"

"Quit trying to baby me I can take care of myself!"

"Obviously not! _You're _the one that passed out for half an hour, not me!"

"Why does this matter, Jace? Why do you care?!"

"Because you're my sister and—!" My phone buzzed in my hand. "And we shouldn't be fighting like this! We have more important matters on our hands!"

"Oh yeah, like what?" She sneered.

I showed her all the notifications from Clary.

She stared at the screen in horror. "Damn, Jace, what did you _do?"_

"I sort of…forgot to say goodbye…." I admitted in a small voice. "Or text her…or call her back…."

I squeezed my eyes shut and braced myself as she pelted me with the pillows on the floor. "Idiot! What the hell, Jace! What were you doing?!"

"I was, ow, saving, ow, YOU, OW! STOP HITTING ME!"

"Well then quit being a dumbass and pick up the phone!"

The assault ceased and I watched her with guarded eyes. "What do you mean 'pick up'?"

She tossed my phone back to me. I caught it this time. "She's calling you, dude."

Panic rose up in my throat. "Oh my God, Izzy, what do I do?!"

"What do you mean what do you do?!" She gawked at me in disbelief. "What do you usually do when a girl calls you?"

"Ignore it and let it go to voicemail." I mumbled.

The pillow attacks started again. "You really _are _an asshole!"

"Stop it! Ow, Izzy! Let me answer it!" She let up just enough for me to press the phone to my ear. "Hey…" I breathed timidly into the receiver.

Silence.

"Put it on speaker!" Izzy whisper-yelled, pillow still in hand.

I gave her a 'what the hell?' look, but did what I was told.

"Clary?" I asked again.

There was a long pause before she answered. "I should just hang up now, shouldn't I?"

Izzy nodded a frantic yes while I told her to stay. "Please just hear me out on this one, Clary."

"Yeah, you said that the last time." She huffed.

"But this time I mean it." My voice was curt and serious, nothing like me at all. "Last night was an emergency. It was really…hectic…backstage."

"Hectic enough to leave me there?" A pause. I could've sworn I heard her voice crack—it was enough to make me break. "I waited for you and you stood me up, Jace."

The room got quiet as Izzy stared at me for, once again, being an idiot. "Jace! You stood her up?!" She hit me again, but this time I saw it coming. "How could you?!"

"Well I couldn't just leave you there!" I whisper-yelled back.

"Leave who there, Jace?" Clary said slowly.

Crap. Must've yelled more than whispered.

I sighed and kept quiet.

"Who was it, Jace, tell me!"

"It was Isabelle." I confessed softly. "I had to leave with her."

"Leave with her?" Clary's voice was guarded, almost like she was holding something back. "Why would you have to _leave with her_ without telling me?"

My heart dropped as Izzy's mouth popped open behind me. No doubt we were all thinking the same thing. "No, Clary, it's not like that. I swear."

Clary sighed and spoke softly. "Can I really trust you on that one?"

"Of course you can." I replied in the same serious tone. "After the show ended, she fainted. It was a mess and I had to get her out of there. It's the truth, ask anyone."

I took a breath, but continued as the silence grew longer. "She's my family, and I'm sorry I never got back to you. It was late and I wasn't thinking straight. 100% my fault."

Everyone was quiet. Only a chorus of breaths rang in the empty air.

"Okay." Clary's voice crackled through the speaker. "I'll...um…text you later, Jace. Please tell Isabelle to feel better."

The line went dead without another word.

XXX

We were still for a moment while the monotonous hum of the dial tone filled the room. It was only when I felt her touch that I was pulled out of my dead lull.

I cut the line and threw my now silent phone to my bed.

"Jace, I'm really sorry." She breathed. "It was all me, just tell her that."

"Don't worry about it, Izzy." I looked over my shoulder and smiled weakly. "Just make sure to get some rest, okay?" I shrugged off her hand and ran my fingers through my mangled curls. I sounded tired. I felt tired. I needed to stop messing up like this….

I caught a glimpse of Isabelle's retreating figure and suddenly she seemed very small. "Okay." She muttered. "I'll try and rest after Simon and I are done with the project…." Her voice faded as she noticed my lack of interest. My focus had returned to my discarded phone; I wasn't paying much attention to anything, let alone her empty promises.

"Alright," she said again. "I'll just leave you to sort things out…."

I'd noticed it in her voice then. She'd faltered—her façade had slipped—and for a second I thought I saw something—a frown, a quiver—_something. _This wasn't like her and we both knew it.

She'd let her guard down. Just for that one instance when she thought I wasn't looking, I saw the real Isabelle. And I could see her breaking.

_What's happening to her?_

She treaded silently towards the door, throwing periodic glances of concern in my direction, black waves rippling and features changing as her face shifted from my static figure to the exit. I let her pass, I almost let her leave, but when her hand reached for the knob I finally responded. No way I was letting her leave now. Not without getting the answers I needed.

I crossed the distance and caught her wrist. I swear I saw her wince. It wasn't because of me, no, this was entirely her own doing. I know this because—

Because right now I can feel the ridges in her skin. Notches in her wrist like tallies, counting down to….

To…

Damn it, Izzy.

I loosened my grip on her wrist and she shifted uncomfortably, her face twitching as she pretended not to notice the sting. "You said last night," I started, eyes locked on her downcast gaze, "That you would answer my questions later." She raised a slight eyebrow and her eyes flickered to mine. "Well, not really—you know what I mean—you _agreed _to it." I huffed. "Well, it's later Izzy, so tell me what happened."

Her tensed muscles released slightly and her sarcastic expression fell as she turned to face me completely. Failing to mask her obvious discomfort, yet succeeding, once again, at keeping her true feelings hidden, she composed herself and gave an airy response. "I forgot to breathe." She said quickly.

I waited for an explanation and never got one.

"Is that really it?" I argued. I wasn't buying it one bit.

"Yeah, Jace, it's no big deal."

What the hell?

"_No big deal?!"_ I wailed. "Izzy, you passed out backstage—you were out for half an hour! You scared the living shit out of me and everyone else backstage—I don't even want to think about what would've happened if I hadn't fought to get you home last night. So honestly, you're right, it's not a big deal, it's _huge."_

"Jace, I'm sorry!" She hollered in an exasperated manner. "I just forgot to—!"

"Forgot to breathe? Yeah. Right!" A sort of cynical chuckle escaped my lips and the seriousness surprised us both. "It was just like how you 'forgot' to eat last year, right? Or did you do it on purpose this time too?"

My last word hung in the silence and my face seemed to morph into an unmovable scowl.

"Jace," She whimpered. I could hear the quiver in her voice—I'd cracked her. All the ferocity and confidence from just moments ago had vanished. Perhaps I was being too harsh…she was near tears when she finally spoke up. "Jace, I don't want to this anymore."

No. I wasn't going to let this happen again.

"Well I do!" I boomed. She flinched and my heart ached. "What the hell am I supposed to think when you just die on me like that, huh?" My grip tightened as my left hand yanked her closer, while my other hand, with remarkable gentleness, studied her features. My fingers grazed her too-visible collarbone, her jagged shoulder, her slim waist, and tiny wrist—the contrast was striking. It was strong yet fragile—tough as paper—and I knew it wouldn't help her at all. How come she couldn't see that either?

"Izzy, you have a history." I went on. "Don't think I haven't noticed how you're just…" I paused and pinched her shrinking waist, "Disappearing into thin air right in fron of me! There one minute and gone the next—how will I know you won't leave me here just like my—!"

I stopped myself. This wasn't about me and my losses. Not in the least.

Her stance stayed the same throughout the duration of my elongated pause, only now we'd lost eye contact again. Her gaze was now fixed on our ugly, bare feet.

"So please don't lie to me, Isabelle." I pleaded. "Don't leave me like this. I won't tell Mayrse or Robert anything but you have to tell me this time." I caught her chin with my free hand and met her solemn eyes once again.

"Izzy,"

_Why am I doing this to her?_

"Listen to me."

_Why does it have to be her?_

"Answer me honestly."

_Why is she doing this to herself?_

We sighed simultaneously as the air around us suddenly became heavy and suffocating.

"Izzy, have you been eating?"

Her eyes fell to the floor again and she slowly drew into herself, fists clenched and shoulders high like walls. "Yes." She uttered in a tiny voice.

A quick jolt of relief was promptly chased out by a wave of fear. If she's eating and getting _smaller—_something is very wrong. I swallowed. My throat was dry like sandpaper.

"Have you been eating enough?" I asked again. I couldn't face her, now both of us found a sudden interest in the floor.

She gave a downcast nod. No other response.

My stomach flip-flopped, my heart sank, and something in my gut told me that hers did too.

When I spoke this time, I heard the falter in _my _voice.

"Have you been keeping it _down, _Isabelle?"

A shudder. A gasp as a shiver passed through her—and then the roll before the retch. Her free hand crept up to her mouth, fingers latched around the side of her face as her eyes squeezed to a close. She took a deep breath through her nose before her eyes weakly fluttered open. "Let me go." She grumbled against her palm.

Another roll.

"What?" I exclaimed. "Izzy, no, I can't—!"

"Let me go!" She said again—roared rather as her limp limbs regained their vigor and tore through my supposedly solid grip. Lips clamped, she ran. Opposite from the exit and right past me, she tripped and plowed and stumbled through the cracked door that led to my bathroom.

And there, she retched and hurled up everything that kept her going—her toughness and strength were tossed in the toilet, just like her dinner.

XXX

**ISABELLE**

Only two hours later and I'm right back where I started.

I flipped around in my half-made bed to bury my face in the pillow another time for good measure, cursing myself one last time for getting myself caught in every way imaginable. First getting called out by Clary and then…that….

No, I don't even want to think about it right now.

I buried the memory along with everything else I continued to repress.

Now all that's left to do is sulk. In silence. Alone. But of course, the minute the thought crosses my mind my door opens, no matter how loud I scream "go away" in my head.

I shoot an icy stare at the boy in my doorway, expecting it to be Jace with another long-ass lecture, but the moment the brown hair and glasses registered, all harshness evaporated.

Yeah, we _did _need to finish that Chemistry project today.

"Isabelle?" Simon peered in with concern. "Are you okay? Jace said you weren't feeling well…."

Damn it. Can't he keep his mouth shut?

"Yeah, I'm fine, I promise." I groaned to myself as I dragged myself up to a sitting position with ringing ears, a spinning head, and a stammering heart.

"Are you sure? I don't want you to overwork yourself after last night. I can just take a seat right over here and work on the project—?"

"No, Simon. I'm fine. I swear. Just…." Another dull throb pulsed in my temple. "Just give me that water bottle you've got in your backpack pocket, I'm dying!"

A goofy grin grew on the boy's face as he tossed me the unopened water bottle. "That's good because I brought it for you anyways!" He stated excitedly. "Oh, and this!" He dug around in his pocket for a little while before he drew something else out and threw it in my direction. The small, white packet of Crystal Light landed right next to the bottle. He knows me so well.

My small smile morphed to match his as I made my drink, silently thanking him for this unnecessarily significant surprise.

As if my smile was a sort of invitation, Simon strode in, timidly at first, and then with more confidence once he decided that nothing in there would eat him or permanently scar him for life. No lacy underwear on the floor, no bras hanging from the fan like he imagined, no way in hell he can find my tampon stash—he's lucky I cleaned my room before he came. I watched as he sat down in my pink, swively desk chair and began to shyly unpack his bag, pretending, and failing, not to notice my stares while tried to squeeze his laptop next to mine on my overflowingly crowded desk.

Then all of the walls seemed to press in. The books and papers on the shelves to my left seemed unbearably close while the windows to my right grew larger, drew nearer. I fell back onto my pillow and covered my eyes with a stray blanket. "Hey, Simon!" I called, my ears started to ring again.

"Yeah?" I could hear the concern in his now distant voice. "You okay? Need help with anything?"

_Yes, help _me,_ damn it!_

"No, I'm fine!" I said again, this time trying to ignore the rumble of my empty stomach. Let's just keep it that way—empty.

"Well then, what's up?" I could feel his eyes on me even though all I saw was darkness.

I somehow found the strength to sit up again. "It's just that I've been stuck in this room all day." I explained. "Do you think we could relocate?"

His confused stupor turned into a light smile. "Yeah, sure. Anything for you!" He closed his laptop and slung his bag over his shoulder. "Onward, captain!"

I smiled along with him and almost eagerly jumped out of bed. Too eagerly I suppose, because when I swung my door open, gasping for the fresh air, I caught Jace off guard on the top of the steps. He jumped at the sudden noise and slowly spiraled to face me, shoulders raised as if he'd been caught sneaking out.

Suspicious….

"So, where are _you _going right now, Jace?" I asked, hands on hips.

He shoved one hand in his pocket while the other pushed through his hair. "Places." He blurted. "I've got to go…do some things…."

"Yeah, of course you do." My voice was dripping with sarcasm as I rolled my eyes. "Like I care, you go do your "things"; I've got work of my own, let's go, Simon."

He threw a quick glance to Jace behind his glasses, but said nothing as we pressed past him.

We were halfway down the steps before he spoke again. "Hey, Izzy, are you hungry for anything?" He said cheekily.

Oh _hell _no. He did not just—!

If looks could kill, he'd be dead a thousand times over. He _really _didn't need to bring this up right now, especially in front of Simon.

I forced a smile. "No, I'm good, Jace. Thanks for asking." I scurried down the rest of the steps hoping to avoid further conversation. Simon quickly followed behind me and Jace brought up the rear, talking again, of course.

"Well, I'll just leave something out for you. You know, just in case you change your mind later."

"And what makes you think that I can't cook for myself?" I asked, back turned and obviously pissed off as he entered the kitchen.

"Actually, I know you can't—I've had your cooking before, remember?"

He laughed as I gave him the finger and fell into the couch in the adjoined living room. Simon was smiling at our sibling banter and I rolled my eyes, again. Of course he'd think it was funny—he doesn't have to _live_ with this asshole….

I continued to grumble to myself and my stomach grumbled along with me as Jace opened boxes and pressed buttons and let plates clatter onto the counter in the room behind me, not bothering to make anything for himself, I suppose, since my food was ready surprisingly quick. He had his jacket on and keys in hand when he passed by me, sarcasm gone when he placed a plate of unappealing but completely desirable food on the end table next to me. The smell made my mouth water and my stomach flip—I was hungry as hell, but what's the point of eating if it doesn't stay?

I refused to look at the full plate of food or make eye contact with Jace as he spoke. "It's leftovers from last night. Mayrse went to Taki's while we were out and got your favorite." There was silence. Luckily Simon was engrossed in his computer. "Seriously, Izzy." Jace said in a hushed whisper. "Eat it. You won't get any better if—!"

"Fine! Just, fine!" I shouted, picking up three french fries and shoving them in my mouth. Already they didn't sit well in my stomach. "Happy?!"

He sighed with a sullen expression. "No, not yet." He looked downright _disappointed _with me. Since when did he become my mother? What the hell?

Since when did Jace decide to care?

Wait a minute….

This is progress!

I pressed my lips together to hold back my laughter. He's becoming less of an asswipe and he doesn't even notice!

So maybe I'll end up losing this bet, but little does he know that I win either way...

Jace stared at me for a long while, attempting to decipher my internal freakout but giving up after about .2 seconds. He spun on his heel and started for the door. "Well, I'm off. Tell me you miss me later!" He trilled. "I know your lives will be lackluster without my angelic presence." He shook his curls for dramatic affect and slammed the door behind him.

Well, maybe he hasn't changed completely but something's different I swear.

Won't be long before the old Jace returns, now will it?

XXX

"So what's with the T.V. in the backyard?"

"My dad likes to watch sports out there in the summer sometimes."

"And the pool?"

"I don't use it as often as I could."

"And Jace's room—it's spotless—I don't understand."

"I don't either. Ask him!"

"And the office right here," Simon pointed to his left. "It's your dad's I suppose?"

"Yeah, but he's always away on business in Europe. He's only in there if he needs to finish something up."

"Which country in Europe again?"

"Idra—Idris? Some country near France, ask Jace, I'm awful at geography."

"Izzy, I don't think Idris is a country…sounds fictional…."

"Well, hell, I don't know! I'm telling you, I barely know where Missouri is."

"It's next to Kansas."

"Well gee thanks, smartass. Do you know how many ions are in 5 liters of water?"

He paused while he actually tried to calculate it. "…A shit ton?"

"1.34x10e23. Write that down."

"Damn! Yes ma'am..."

It's been nearly two hours since Jace left and we only have one slide done. Granted we spent the first hour gossiping, complaining about school, and taking selfies, but the last 30 minutes has just been Simon quizzing me about my own house while I actually tried to get some work done.

"And whose bedroom is right here?" He gestured around the corner.

"Oh, that's just Max."

"Another brother right? Should I go say hi?" He started for the bedroom.

I caught his arm. "No, he doesn't want to see you I promise!"

"Ouch. I'm hurt, Izzy!" He faked a grieved expression and grabbed at his heart.

"Seriously, Simon, we need to finish this project tonight!"

He threw me a mischievous grin. "Oh, are you sure? Not one more selfie?" He teased.

Our gaze drifted to our phones.

And yet another 10 minutes were wasted snapping useless selfies—and not the cute kind either—no, these were staying on my phone. They'll never see the light of social media, I promise you.

"Ugh! Photobomb!" Simon moaned, his once excited face immediately dropping.

Searching for the culprit, it took a moment before I saw the familiar mess of blond hair in the reflection of my glassy phone. "Smile, Jace!" I cooed playfully, hoping to snag a picture of him looking frazzled and confused—for once in his life—but almost out of reflex, he responded with his signature smolder while Clary—Clary?—slid next to him and stroke a pose of her own.

What the hell? So _that's _where he went.

I glared at him and he grinned. What the hell happened to "don't let Clary/Simon know I'm into him/her"? All the rules have been thrown out the window, what the _fuck?!_

I snuffed out my inner rage and spoke directly to Jace. "I didn't know this was a party. What's with the company, Jace?" I glanced over at him, shaking my head in dismay when I saw he was checking his reflection in the window pane. Classic Jace, I'd already lost him to _himself,_ he now found running his fingers through his own tousled hair and act of pure amusement. He frowned slightly at his "disheveled" appearance, a frown that quickly turned into a small smirk when he saw Clary looking—no, staring—at him like he was made of gold or something. She must've noticed that I was watching because her eyes flicked to me, then Simon, then to some imaginary object in the distance. A faint blush colored her cheeks.

"Earth to Jace!" I repeated. "Quit checking yourself out and answer the question!"

"I said," Jace faced me and stuck his thumbs in his pockets. "I'm helping Clary with her calculus homework. You should really pay attention more, Izzy. It'll help you in life."

"I do pay attention." I scoffed, my gaze snapping back to Clary and regretting it instantly once I felt the awkwardness set in. I mean, _she _didn't know that I heard what she said over the phone—getting mad at Jace after accusing me of rendezvousing with him last night—but I haven't forgotten. That's what she thinks—or thought—looks like Jace was able to get her to forget about everything since she's here.

She waved at me then, but I ignored it and returned my focus to Jace. "Since when did you become such a math whiz? You never bother to help me." I sassed.

"Oh, I've always been a math whiz! And a whiz at everything else." He flashed the room a cocky smile. "Besides, I got a 100 in the class last year."

My scowl quickly turned into shock, disbelief, and then ended with an irritated grimace. I've never seen him with schoolwork once—no way this crap is true.

But then again….

I liked it better when I could hate his arrogance for a reason.

"Come on, Izzy! You should know these things!" He glided over to me and ruffled my hair, chuckling lightly to himself and glowing with newfound self-importance.

I narrowed my eyes. "Bye, Jace."

He looked amused, triumphant even, and after a moment of scowling at Simon and taking a glance at the now empty plate on the table—Simon finished the food after Jace left—he reached back for Clary's hand. She clung to it like a magnet. They departed without a word.

Simon muttered something behind me and rolled his eyes. A fresh wave of embarrassment rolled through me as I realized that he was there to witness that entire ordeal—and he also just saw his best friend run off with the infamous "Bachelor of Booker T." To his room. Together.

Ouch, that must suck.

My eyes connected with his. They were unbelievably green and sickeningly sad. Shoulders slumped and sporting that defeated attitude, he looked so fragile, so broken. "Man, I really hope they're doing calculus up there!" He laughed weakly and feigned a smile.

"Oh, I'll make sure of it!" I reassured, to no avail at all. His smile flickered and then dropped completely as his eyes fell to his long and callused fingers. Scarred from years of playing music, I'm sure—the strong and sure fingers that intertwined themselves now, mirroring the twisted, distraught expression on his face perfectly. The beautiful eyes that shone when he spoke and the beautiful lips whose smile could crack the hardest of hearts were now desolate and drenched with sorrow. He was torn up. We were torn up.

We were staring at each other now, not forcing anything but just letting the moment come and go.

"Is something wrong?" He murmured quietly.

My eyes that were previously glued to him scrambled away as my fingers nervously found interest in my hair. "No, no issue….Is something up with you, Simon? You seem…upset."

His eyes met mine for a brief moment, sighing and reaching to rub the nape of his neck before he let his hands flop into his lap and his shoulders slump forward. "Clary and I sort of…had a—uh…falling out this past summer." He stumbled over his words as he held a conversation with the floor. "We haven't really spoken since….I guess it's just hard to see her get all buddy-buddy with Jace when she couldn't do it with me."

Wow. That sounds awfully familiar. Painfully familiar—I actually understand how Simon feels—to love and not be loved back…it's one of the most crushing feelings you can experience.

The memories sent a sort of trigger throughout my body. My stomach flopped—what little food I'd had was fighting me—and my wrist ached. It itched for the pain. It's been going on for so long now that I feel like I _need _these things to get by.

I pressed my wrist to my side and swallowed hard.

Damn it, Jace! See what you've done to the both of us?

I feel weak. He's made me weak.

And even though all these memories and emotions were raging inside of me, all I could say was simply, "I know the feeling."

Simon's eyes shot up and his brow furrowed in disbelief. "I don't believe that for a second."

Now suddenly my eyes discovered the floor. My fingers crept to my wrist. I said nothing.

"You're _the _Isabelle Lightwood!" He continued. "Every guy—hell, even a few girls want to be with you! It's fact!"

"Well you could've proved me wrong!" I roared. I could feel the tears coming as I heard the thickness of my voice. I choked it all down—he was not going to see me cry. Not him. Not anybody. I'd sworn that a long time ago.

"What?" His voice seemed so far away. "Stop doing that. Stop putting yourself dow—"

"Don't you get it, Simon?" I snapped, staring daggers at him, at first with a hot flash of anger and then later with self-loathing. "Nobody wants the slut." I went on. "It's fact."

He was silent for a moment.

"I don't think you're a slut, Isabelle." He said in a steady voice. "You're the funniest, smartest, most talented girl I know. You don't have the baseness that half the girls at school have—it's amazing and I don't ever regret getting to know you, so please believe it." His eyes never strayed from mine during his spiel, but later broke away upon noticing my hands. My fingers ached as the skin pulled tight across the tensed tendons—I hadn't even noticed until he slowly, softly he placed his hands on mine. I'd jumped at the contact, almost rejecting the affection, but something in his face—his eyes or his smile—just said "let me help you." So I did. I let him. And he didn't try to pry, or search, or feel. He just kept his hands on top of mine until I let my grip relax and let out the aching breath I had no idea I was holding.

How quickly the tables had turned. Just 3 minutes ago _I _was comforting _him_ and now it's vise-versa—maybe he really _did_ care about me. He cared enough to fake it and brush it off even if it hurt him. He cared enough to put the past behind him and forget about the reopened wounds.

If he could do it, so can I.

Next time, I'll be there for him.

"Now then," He said again with a reassuring smile. "How about we finish Chemistry?"

My smile matched his. "Of course, Simon. Sounds like a plan." I met his eyes again, a sort of silent thank you before I pulled away slightly. Not enough to separate our hands, not enough to ruin the moment, but enough to reach my notebook that was just within grabbing distance. I handed it to him. Wrist up.

Exposed now because he trusted me.

And slowly, but surely, I was beginning to trust him.


	7. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays - Prt1

**Hello readers! *drops onto knees and apologizes profusely for long wait* My summer has been crazy busy so far, but writing IS a priority and I promise to knock out as many chapters as possible!**

**Summary time!**

_**In the last chapter Jace and Isabelle had to deal with the disastrous aftermath of the final Collaboration performance. Izzy faints and Jace is the hero of the night! But everything comes crashing down the next morning when he gets a call from Clary after speeding home without a word to her! And even after all of this, Jace finally confronts Isabelle on a few...issues that she's been dealing with. Cliche? Possibly. But Izzy's got her own battles to fight-will opening up to Simon help her win? She took that leap last chapter when Simon showed up work on their dreaded Chemistry project, and to Simon (and Isabelle's) surprise, Clary and Jace have some "calculus" (yes, math) work to do of their own, sparking a few emotions with Simon and leading Isabelle to begin to open up in a way she never thought was possible. That was only the beginning. (And don't worry, Jace and Clary DID study ;)**_

**For my Jace POV lovers out there (there has to be a few, right?) this is your chapter! It was very hard for me to write this chapter, both for trying to capture the emotions correctly and for, well, you'll see.**

**This one is a little bit shorter than usual, only because when I originally wrote it there were about 10 more sections! It was close to 30 pages long and 10K words-UNFINISHED. So this is part 1 of a 3 part "chapter". Please enjoy!**

* * *

Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays

(Part 1 - Monday)

**JACE**

_Math was an easy subject. Always had been, always will be._

_I was uncomfortable and half asleep, almost drooling in the rickety desk of my Algebra I class. Isabelle, who was actually paying attention for once, had to keep poking me or coughing loudly so that I would stay awake. It was our job as best friends to keep each other's heads from slamming onto our desks. A pact we'd made two years ago after Trevor Anderson's unfortunate accident during an insanely boring 6__th__ grade lecture. The kid's nose never looked the same—and you can't save everybody—but Isabelle and I were determined to make it through the worst of 8__th__ grade. And we'd been doing pretty well. Our last year of middle school was almost halfway over. _

_Today was a Wednesday. Such an odd day, Wednesday. Almost to Friday but still too far away to start slacking—it was a slap in the face to both students _and_ teachers. But this Wednesday was special, it had meaning, and not just because it was 3 days to winter break._

_Last Wednesday was my parent's 15__th__ wedding anniversary, and this year they decided to fly off to Cancun to "renew their vows". Just thinking about it made my stomach churn in an extremely-gross-but-also-really-adorable kind of way. Gross for obvious reasons, but still cute because my parents really loved each other. I could see it in my mother's eyes whenever she looked at my dad or caught sight on the shiny new ring on her finger. And I could see it on my dad's face whenever he thinks I don't notice how they watch dumb movies together. All cuddled up, insisting that they stay as close as possible even though there's plenty of space left on the couch._

_I understand love about as much as the next 14 year old boy, but this Wednesday was special because today were coming home. _

_The Lightwoods heard me raving about it all morning….Not that I didn't appreciate staying with them while my parents were away. They were my family, and I'd had plenty of fun helping Max with his first grade vocabulary, or spying on Isabelle while she gossiped over the phone. Though, the best part was having "guy talk" with Alec every night. After dinner he'd work on art assignments in his room while I drilled him with questions the special high school he'd gotten accepted to—the same one Izzy and I would be auditioning for in a few weeks. I was nice. It always was._

_But I was ready to head home to my family. My _real _family._

_So, honestly, I could care less about multiplying binomials with FOIL, and just like every other middle schooler—slackers and geniuses alike—my attention was already at the door before the knob completed its turn._

No. I don't like this.

_The school principal dragged himself in. The class fell into an immediate hush. _

_We all watched with eager expression as he walked up to our dinosaur of a teacher and whispered a few short words in her ear. Mrs. Tillman gasped slightly at whatever news the principal had—gladly—interrupted class for, and all the students were on the edges of their seats, awaiting the most exciting part of the show. The Moment of Truth. That agonizingly long minute when the two adults singled out the troublemaker with a simple, sentencing glance. Maybe today would be the day Jared Hall got caught for flinging bacon bits into the cheerleaders' hair. Or maybe they'd figured out who'd deflated all the basketballs last month. But Jared was safe, and nobody was in trouble, because their somber eyes landed on me. _

_I only caused trouble at home. To my teachers I was just loud, straight-A Jace Wayland._

_They made eye contact with me, but didn't say a word as they left the room. They didn't need to look over their shoulder to know that I was following them, and didn't bother to quiet the class when they all let out a round of accusing "oohs". Mitchell Redfern wouldn't stop laughing like the idiot that he was, and I could feel Izzy's eyes burning into the back of my head. Probably smirking as I trailed behind the teachers like a rat to the Piper._

_They both sighed as the door slammed shut._

_Mrs. Tillman looked unbelievably uncomfortable in her floral dress, shifting awkwardly in her worn out loafers and breathing quite loudly. Not to mention that this was the first time I'd seen Mr. Williams outside of his ice cold office since this year's class orientation. That was 3 months ago, and it was evident that this was a dangerously rare combination._

_What the hell did I _do?

_They exhaled again, though this time it was closer to a shudder. And even my teacher, despite her usual lack of emotion, put a wrinkly hand on my shoulder. I was too scared to shake it off. _

_The principal's voice was low and raspy. "We got a call today…." He started, "from the local police."_

_Mrs. Tillman's focus was on the floor. They wouldn't meet my face no matter how hard she tried._

"_The Lightwoods are on their way here. If you want to go home with them, that is."_

No. Stop this shit. Now.

_The cold rush of fear emanated from my stomach, but the looks on my teacher's faces did nothing to make the ice ebb like they were supposed to. Teachers were supposed to care. They're supposed to make everything right—but this was wrong. Everything about this encounter was wrong. We all knew it._

"_Why would I want to go home with the Lightwoods today?" I asked skeptically, giving the adults a sideways look. "My mom and dad are on their way home right now. They land at 1:45." _

_There was no response._

_Ice ran in my veins now, instead of blood. "They told me that they would be on time to pick me up from school." My view shifted. "Unless they're delayed."_

_Mrs. Tillman put a hand over her mouth at that. She spun away from me, her shoulders hunching in a sob._

Make it stop.

_Mr. Williams continued to stare. My algebra teacher was halfway down the hall._

"_There was a delay, right?" The walls began to quake. Everything was crumbling right before my eyes. "Please tell me there was only a _fucking _delay. Please!" I begged._

_He shook his head, denying me._

_Oh God, no._

_My stomach rolled._

"_Jace." He said slowly. "There was a problem today—a malfunction with flight NK948. It was a small aircraft on a small airline…" He blinked a few times. His eyes looked wet. "The flight was from Cancun to Dallas/Ft. Worth…"_

No. Stop it, Jace. Stop this.

"_Jace? Do you hear me?"_

_I nodded once, a lie since the ringing was drowning out his voice._

"_There was a crash." He said, and added solemnly, quietly— _

_I didn't hear his voice. I just read his lips._

"_No survivors."_

_My entire body was numb._

_I didn't hear the clang—didn't even feel my skin tear—but my principal looked startled as he glanced at the red smear on the locker and then the wound on my left hand. My math teacher was nowhere to be found, and the kids were still in riot. I was a part of a different chaos. I was fighting to hold myself together, but I could feel my muscles fatiguing and my knees beginning to buckle right as the realization set in._

_They're gone._

_They're gone and they're not coming back._

_So what does that make me?_

_The tears stung, and the adults just watched as I ran to the bathroom and threw up what felt like 3 days' worth of lunch._

Jace!

_Isabelle's voice was loud and clear when she came and got me 10 minutes later, cussing out every other guy in the bathroom as she barged through the door. We both went home early that day. Our winter break started early._

_Things were never the same after that._

_Today was a Wednesday. December 10__th__. Three days before winter break, and special for all the wrong reasons._

_December 10__th__ was the day that ruined my life._

God damn it, Jace!

WAKE THE FUCK UP.

XXX

I jolted. My foot connected with something warm, and about a million things to fell to the floor.

One of them was Izzy.

"Jeez." She stood up, brushing off her slinky silk pajamas as if they were instantly dirtied by one trip to the floor. Her irritation quickly evaporated into sympathy.

I hated it. I hate the sympathy. I hate the eyes. I hate the hugs. I hate today.

But the whole house knew the date, so the eyes and hugs wouldn't stop until clear into the 11th.

"You gonna be okay?" She asked, gingerly climbing next to me on my bed.

I twisted towards my single window, away from her. She pretended not to notice. "Yeah," I croaked. "I'll be fine. I'll find a way to be fine." But my assurance didn't make her leave. I wanted her to leave.

"You want to talk about it real quick? Before we get ready for school?"

I stayed silent. When she put a warm hand on me, I flinched.

"That was a pretty nasty dream you were having." A small smile. "I came down the hall expecting your music and heard you yelling instead, all sweaty, and thrashing, and…."

She caught sight of my face and rethought her words.

"Well, it was nasty. But it's just another Monday, right?"

She smiled. It was as fake as Celeste Delgrado's new chest.

I glared at her. "It's December 10th."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I know it's December 10th that's why I'm here!"

"Well, that's nice and all but I can handle myself." I made sure not to meet her stare as I stumbled out of bed. I heard her shift behind me. "Don't worry, I won't take a blade to my wrist like other people would." I injected as much venom into my words as humanly possible. "There's no way I'm _that _weak."

It was harsh, and I knew it. Maybe now she'll leave me the hell alone.

Silence. And she kept her stance.

No such luck. She's staying.

Her white skin was splotched with angry patches of red while she spoke through clenched teeth. "This is no way to handle your problems, Jace Wayland."

I laughed; something dark and mocking that rattled my chest as my fingers clutched the cool porcelain of the counter. My eyes were dark and crazed. "Yeah, like _you_ can talk about handling problems!" I don't know when I made the decision that I needed to _hurt _her, but I wasn't holding back. "Maybe you should keep your mouth shut on this one." Maybe _I_ should've but I didn't. I should've held back and kept my mouth shut but I didn't. Some sick part of me wanted her to feel terrible, wanted her to get out, and I regretted every word I said right as I said it. But I still dropped my voice low and glared. "Last time I checked you're 5 pounds shy of dead and slicing your wrists like bread, Isabelle. I mean, _look_ at you! It's awful!" I scowled at her in disgust. "You're losing muscle, it looks like a bear caught your arm, and you can probably count your ribs for fun. What?" I gave her that head-to-toe look that she hates. She shivered. "Do you really think guys find that attractive? Because they don't, so you can kiss that sex appeal goodbye. And do you honestly think Mrs. Weiss and Ms. Mabus don't notice? No offence, but you probably won't get cast in any dances anytime soon. Not until you gain a few—eat a sandwich or something, gosh!" I rolled my eyes and wanted to die. I've never said anything this horrid and offensive to anyone, but the words kept coming like vomit. Like a faucet I couldn't shut off, even if I wanted to. And I wanted to.

But some part of me didn't, and it won. "By the angel, Izzy. You're skinny, and broken, and scary, and sick, and frankly it's not that cute, so I have no idea what's going on in that twisted little head of yours. I'm not the crazy one. _You've_ got the major issues. _You_ get the Torment Title, not me."

I didn't just cross the line. I'd crossed about 5, set them on fire, and spat in their direction. She should be clawing out my eyeballs.

Instead she screamed, her voice cracking with frustration, and I winced. "I'm crazy? _Me?!" _Izzy shot out at me like lightning, surging off the bed and catching hold of the collar of my ratty t-shirt. I screwed up my and waited for the assault that never came. "Really?! At least my parents aren't dead!"

Low blow.

We were screaming now, and the idea of stopping, or being polite was long gone. "Well at least I can eat like every other person! Like every other _normal _and _sane_ teenager, unlike _you!"_

Her fist tightened. A seam popped and the fabric tore. She might be down 15 pounds but she's still strong as hell. "I cannot _believe _you would bring that up right now!" She hissed. "Will you ever fucking let that go?!"

"To hell I won't!"

"Why the hell not, Jace?! Because for the last few weeks you've been a major asshole to me for no reason."

"God, Izzy, there _is_ a reason!"

"Oh really?" She roared. "Because I'm your 'baby sister'? Because I need to be protected, and watched over, and babysat 24/7 while you're trying to force me into something that I _can't fucking do? _ Just listen to yourself! You're a mess Jace! A goddamn mess if you think for one second that putting _me _through hell will help you through yours. Well you've got another thing coming "Mr. Perfect"! Life doesn't work like that—you can't stomp all over people and think it'll actually make your problems go away!"

The rage inside me was starting to swell. My left wrist twitched. This was _very _bad. If she said one more thing—

"So quit being such a crybaby and tell me one good reason why—!"

She gasped as my palm rang against the counter, and I kept it there so it would never reach her face.

That was the last thing I wanted to do. I'd jump off a building before I'd lay a single harsh hand on her.

But I don't think she realized that. Her face contorted, but she kept shouting. "What the hell is _wrong _with you?! Are you—?"

"JUST SHUT THE HELL UP, ISABELLE! Shut your mouth for one freakin' second! Can you even do _that?!"_

I yanked at her shoulders but she didn't flinch. "How the _hell_ could you know what I've been through?" The heat rushed to my face as my voice cracked. "How could you possibly know what's going on in my head every day, Isabelle? _You can't. _And as far as I know, you're a hot mess also." I pushed her aside, a little carelessly, but she didn't stumble like I wanted her to. I paced the room and she stood still. "So yeah, I am a mess! I'm not Mr. Perfect! I _am _putting you through hell and I won't let it go because you're my sister and _I fucking care about you!"_

"Well did you ever think that maybe I care about you, too Jace?!"

I stopped mid stride, caught in a bout of speechlessness. Now my face was red, and at this point I'm surprised that Mayrse hasn't broken down the door yet, or that Max hasn't popped in quietly to say something that'll make us all feel better, or even that Robert hasn't grumbled something about "coexisting peacefully" before leaving for work.

No, we were on our own. No parents, no siblings. And Izzy, just like the firecracker she was, was still exploding.

"God you are so _infuriating!" _She was pacing and screaming now, too, making a point to chuck pillows and sheets across the room whenever they crossed her path. Also making sure that everything solid was aimed at my face."How could you forget that I actually give a shit about what you feel? _I'm _the one that came and saved you 4 years ago. _I'm _the one you cried on all night long. _I'm _the one who let you sleep in my bed until the nightmares stopped and had to fend off all the dickheads that tried to get under your skin until the start of freshman year. That was _me, _Jace! And don't try to deny it because I know _just saw it!_ Still dreaming about it every year like the coward you are!"

My heart skipped a beat at the sound of that—her words hurt as bad as mine did. But I didn't mean what I said, not really.

But I can't help but think she meant every hurtful word she said.

And she was absolutely right.

There was a moment of stillness, quietness. Someone who didn't know might actually call it peace—

But it was only the eye of the storm.

"Get out." I growled. "Leave. Now."

"Gladly." She sneered, and flew out the door, glaring at me all the while.

Izzy whirled on me at the last minute, her figure only grazing the threshold out of my room. "You've changed," she said cryptically. "Since the crash you've been different, and maybe you haven't noticed it yet." She leaned her slender body on the doorframe, eyeing me with a cold scrutiny. "Or maybe you have."

I have.

I've been running wild, but nobody's bothered to reign me in.

"But I'm trying to help you," she went on. "That's the whole point of the bet. I was hoping you'd see that by now. But you're just too stupid to get it." She brushed her hair over her shoulder, and I found a seat on my bed with my head in my hands. "Clary was supposed to pull you in. Change you back."

"Back to what?" I mumbled to my feet. "Aren't I too far gone? Isn't that why you set me up?"

"I set you up because I think you can _change, _Jace. That December 9th boy is in there somewhere, I know it. And I bet Clary knows it too." She picked herself up, and just when I thought she would come and sit next to me, or comfort me, or apologize, she did the exact opposite. She backed away slowly, her glare still on my disheveled figure. "The only difference between me and Clary is that you love her. You love her differently than me and every other girl you've tossed. So if you think I can't help, then that's perfectly fine because you have _her."_ She said the word with an icy rage. "You always have."

We took a collective breath.

Everything always comes back to this. Our stupid decision we made when we made when we were 16—something that, obviously, still tears us apart.

"I'm taking Alec's old car, so don't wait up." There was no emotion in her voice. "If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm sure _she'll_ listen." She turned now, her words coming out in a low, sardonic mumble.

"Have a nice Monday."

XXX

Her eyes slid to mine. "You look distraught."

I am distraught. "I'm not distraught." That was a lie.

She glared at me with green slits. "Yes you are." She insisted.

Silence.

There was an unexpected lift to her voice, light and bubbly, and she grinned when she spoke. "Well, are you gonna start talking or what?"

"I'd rather not."

"Oh, I think you would." She flicked a paint covered brush at me, almost purposely splattering me with a loud and vibrant purple. "Now, don't be shy. What's on your mind, Wayland?"

I exhaled. If only she knew.

We were alone in the warm and messy painting studio. The industrial room was lit with a comforting ambiance. Large windows made up the back wall that looked directly into the growing sculpture yard, and tables and stools filled the space to the point where it could be considered junky and suffocating. But Clary loved it here, and I couldn't stand to be around my so-called "friends" today. I didn't need to think twice before slipping into the room to join her instead of making a scene in the lunchroom across the hall.

She was already working when I walked in. Paint was smeared over her pallet, as well as her hands, and her attention rarely left her canvas. Mine rarely left her, but she never knew it, which was alright with me.

20 minutes in and Clary's lunch was still left untouched, as was mine, but she was only preoccupied. I on the other hand was a breath away from another mental breakdown. "What day's today?" I asked to make a point. She wasn't going to give up until I told her. I'd accepted that when I sat down—and I was doing exactly what Isabelle had told me to do, even though it probably pissed her off beyond belief.

"Today? Monday." She said blandly, still distracted by whatever was on her canvas. Her brush swirled silently, and I wondered how long I would have before I lost her to her work completely. Clary glanced in my direction. "What, you hate Mondays?"

I slid off the paint stained stool, managing to scatter three others in the process. My pacing was getting a little out of hand today. I noticed the ache in my fingers as I twisted them for the thousandth time, and my voice strained out of my lips. "I hate _this_ Monday."

Her paintbrush paused. "Why?" She focused on me for a moment. "Isn't today just another Monday?"

I grimaced. Of course it was.

"Jace, stop pacing, it's making me really anxious."

"Sorry, sorry. I'll let you focus." I clattered into a seat. It was small and plastic but actually had a back to it unlike the stools. Blue and white streaks haphazardly coated the plastic, but I barely noticed. My mind was thinking of everything, except logic.

"What is it you're working on again? It's for your winter break project right?" I needed some kind of distraction. Any kind, even if it was annoying everyone around me by asking meaningless questions. So be it.

"Answer my question first."

Of course, Clary had a one track mind.

"You are _really _stubborn, Fray."

"And you're _still _trying to be elusive by dodging the question. Answer me!" A slight giggle escaped her lips. "Not a normal Monday, elaborate."

My hands dragged down my face, stopping mid track and wiping frantically, suddenly afraid I'd created a rainbow from my chin to my cheekbones. "Maybe it's normal for you." My head was in my hands. I didn't care about the paint anymore. "Or Josh, or anybody else who doesn't know what happened on—" My words stuck in my throat like I was choking on my own tongue.

When exactly was the last time I'd told anybody why I hate December 10th?

I'd told Clary about the crash after she damn near forced it out of me, but not the date, not the reason, nor the day, or the occasion. Nobody knew the details except the Lightwoods, and save for an aunt or two, they were the only ones that came with me to the funeral. But other than that….I haven't told a soul. Everyone that knows was there when it happened.

I was out of the chair again, and this time my hands were shaking.

"Jace, stop that." She was across the room in an instant. Warm fingers caught mine, coaxing them down into a quiet tremble. "Nothing is normal if it makes you this antsy. Please just tell me what's the problem—Jesus." A hand floated to her hip sassily. "I think you're the stubborn one. You need to let me in, because if I'm trying to help you find the old Jace from before the crash—" She gulped, and it only took a second before she remembered, her eyes passing over me with none other than…sympathy.

I let it slide this time. For some reason it wasn't as sickening with her.

"Oh." She breathed.

I nodded slowly and forced a smile, letting her hand go while I maneuvered around the minefield of stools until I made it back to my blue and white school spirit chair. My fingers found my hair, and then fell to my lap with a dull smack. "Oh is right." My smirk was chock full of sarcasm.

She sat, and then stood. Started towards me, and then kept her place. Clary was uneasy, indecisive, and it was showing as she gnawed on her nonexistent nail beds. "Today is _not _a normal Monday." She mumbled around her fingers.

"Not for me." I replied, starting to rise out of my chair and then falling back into it at the last minute. An unpleasant scraping noise broke through the now awkward silence. Her baffled stare was still glued to the floor. "It's a normal Monday to everyone except the orphan, isn't it?"

She glowered at me, eyes off the floor and snapping to mine like a rubber band, green and blazing. "Jace Wayland you are _not _an orphan."

"Aren't I?" I twisted my head away from her. "I mean, sure, I may have a few 'siblings' and good 'parents' but they're not mine. Not really. They're no papers that say I'm theirs, so that makes me…nothing. An orphan—the Wayward Wayland." I smiled darkly at my own joke, but she wasn't buying it. If sarcasm is my mask, and it was, she saw right through it every time.

Her fists clenched at her sides, and her eyes slowly squeezed shut as she spoke. "You are not _nothing, _you are not _wayward, _and you are _not alone. _Alright?" Now she moved, closing the crowded distance between us and jabbing an orange finger into my chest. "Everyone on this earth has their own inner demons that come out at night. I have mine, you have yours. But we deal with them, we conquer them, we don't have time to let them get the best of us." Clary paced away from me. She was acting an awful lot like me. "I get it. I'm sorry. And it's okay to be upset. But this pessimistic sad shit is crazy. It's no good for you, and it's definitely no good for people who care about you—like me. It only pisses them off, so cut it out."

Well, isn't _that _something I should tell Isabelle?

It would be so much better than my previous attempts…

I shook my head, dismissing the thought. There's no way she would actually listen to me after this morning. I did care about her, and it scares me to hell that we're fighting like this—especially today—but despite the severity of our feud, among other things, I found myself grinning and managed to bring the sarcasm back in.

"You care about me, Fray?" I raised an eyebrow with a slight smirk, taunting her. It was meant to be a joke, but it didn't sound that way when I said it. My voice cracked at the very end, giving me away. I didn't care and she didn't notice, but I made sure my voice was steady when I spoke again. "One month ago you were calling me, quote 'an inconsiderate ass' if I'm not mistaken. And I'm not."

I met her eyes directly. They were still raging when she folded her slender arms over her chest. "You are an ass and you're not mistaken." She said quickly with her back to me. She spat the words over her shoulder. "But for your information, I also was cursing you out for making me wait in the cold when you never came after the show."

I scratched the same, now sore, spot on my head that I'd been scratching all day. "Sorry about that."

She waved her hand and rolled her eyes. "It's in the past."

"But you care about me?"

"You are such an attention whore."

"Yeah, I get that a lot. But most girls leave the 'attention' part out. It was more accurate that way."

She chuckled. "I bet."

I nodded.

Clary uncrossed her arms and leaned against a table. "That sucks ass, Jace." She said, suddenly somber. "I'm really sorry."

I know.

"It's okay, Clary."

It wasn't.

I closed my eyes and tried to pull myself together. Again.

There was a hand on my shoulder, and a light squeeze as she found her way into my lap, and her warmth—her presence—was surprisingly settling. Clary rested her temple on my chest. Her hands were gentle, almost featherlike around my neck, and her uneven pulse drummed along with mine. I buried my nose in her curls while my arms wrapped around her. She smelled like apples and paint.

"Alright, so maybe it's not okay right now." She breathed into my shirt.

Clary didn't move, and she didn't need to. She was maybe the only girl that fit perfectly in my arms, and I liked it this way.

Her eyes found mine. "It's not okay. You're not okay, are you?"

I shook my head, in answer and in awe. "You really can see right through me."

"I told you I was observant, and you didn't believe me."

I started to sway with her. "I believe you now."

I felt her tiny chest rise and fall against my own. "Hey, I'm sorry about what I said. That was a little harsh. You didn't deserve the inner demon spiel."

I groaned slightly. "You were right though."

"I know I'm right." She muttered with pride. "Those are just the things I'd learned over the years. I thought I'd spread the knowledge."

I unlocked her arms from around my neck and turned her torso to match mine. Now she was straddling me. We thought nothing of it. But if either of our faces moved as much as a centimeter, we'd be lip locked for who knows how long. We thought everything of that.

It hurt to stay still. We stayed.

My breath stirred the stray curls that escaped her braid. "Thanks for sharing what you know."

She was dazed and it was adorable. "Thanks for listening."

"Thanks for helping."

"It's no problem."

"None at all?"

"None." Her breathing sped up. "Not with you." My arms tightened around her waist and she pressed against me in response. "Will you be alright?"

I was just as dazed as she was. "I'll be fine."

"Alright." She was breathless.

"Alright." So was I.

And then, all at once and without warning, we moved.

XXX

_So, Isabelle, I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to explain our first kiss. _

_No few sentences will ever do it justice-it's still difficult for me to comprehend how the happiest moments derive from those low points of indescribable pain. Before today I didn't even think it was possible to be so happy and feel so loved while also feeling like you're shattering into a million pieces all at once._

_But then again, before today I'd never kissed Clary Fray._

_So even if the next few paragraphs come out a mess—it'll help me remember, and it might help you understand. But if the paragraphs sound perfect and are dripping with an unbelievable eloquence—then it'll make _you _want to kiss Clary Fray. I promise._

_And let me just say, Clary is a _fabulous_ kisser. You won't be disappointed._

_But try to imagine this: _

_You've got that tight feeling in your chest—the one that's both bliss, and sorrow, and an entire plethora of emotions and _feelings _swirling and slamming inside of you. It's just like that—and it's as if the only way to let it out is to show that person you love exactly _how much you love them _right at that moment_. _No hesitation. No worries. Just kissing them like the world is about to end and holding them as if you'll never see her another day in your life._

_It was like that, except more beautiful because we both felt it. _

_Her inner demons had surfaced, whatever they were, and I was her outlet. She was mine. And when our lips met for that first lung-shattering, heart-stopping, lusty, and perfect kiss—an embrace that was all lips, and hands, and chests, and bodies, and hair falling out of braids, and paint smearing all over your favorite shirt, and not caring about it one bit—it was like I was exploding. It was like I was flying. I was so happy it hurt, and she could've stayed on my lap for the rest of eternity and I wouldn't have minded at all._

_And by the way she was kissing me back, Clary wouldn't have either._

_I don't think she ever got a chance to finish the painting she was working on, but she managed to create another beautiful work of art on something _besides _canvas—90% polyester and 10% cotton-blend. And I don't think that minor setback bothered her at all. And it makes me ecstatic, because I'll know where to find her at lunch tomorrow—and it may have only been a semester—but I know I will never love her any less than I do right in this moment._

_For 4 years December 10__th__ has been sour—it's never been good. Not once. But now, with Clary, it's an acceptable bittersweet. This Monday was special, this date has meaning. It's something different now—a symbol of birth and not death—and you can't tell me that it's not worth remembering and not worth sharing with you. Even if it pisses you off. I don't care—you're making me do this anyways—but I don't care._

_I was vulnerable today. I let someone fix me._

_And for once, I'm okay with that._

I exhaled and shifted awkwardly under the covers.

This bet may have been the dumbest bet of all time, and this pointless paper requirement was insane, but right now as I'm closing up my laptop and crawling into bed, I can't help but think that maybe it was one of the best things that's ever happened to me. Izzy couldn't have been more right—Clary's been fixing me and I didn't even know it.

I snapped off my light and slammed my head on the pillow. It was 12:01 a.m.

Tuesday. I'd managed. I'd made it.

Another December 10th in the past.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Rough, right? Section 2 killed me I swear...**

**It had its happy moments, and there's more to come! Part 2 is ready to roll!**

**I'll post it Friday night, but if I can get 5 reviews (only 5! It can be two words and a smiley face I'm not picky!) But if I can get 5, I'll post early! (that's a treat, isn't it?) And I'll try this out-from here on out if you sign your penname at the end of a review, I'll be sure to PM you a snippet before I publish! (ya know, if you want :)**

**Anyways, hope you guys liked it! **

**Reviews/Follows/Favorites make me happy and it'll make you happy too!**

**Thanks,**

**Sam Xx**


	8. An Honest Author's Note :)

Hey Readers!

So sorry that I couldn't get to you last Friday, I've been busting my hump every day since then so I can get you guys an Isabelle that you asked for-and I'm working on it.

But as summer is starting to close-and as I'm starting to realize that I can't put off my schoolwork of any longer-I have to say that writing may be slowing down a little. Maybe a lot.

**I refuse to abandon this story.**

It's not an option for me, it's just that I'm gathering that I don't have as much time to devote to writing that I'd planned on this summer, and it makes me so unbelievably sad that I'll have to stop doing something I love, even if it's just for a little while. I'll be back as soon as possible (Chapter 8 is _so close _to being completed it's embarrassing!) But I want to give you guys the best, I want to communicate, and I want to be honest because I love everyone that reads this fic. _Things will be slow._

But with all this drama comes _major _writing inspiration-so look forward to it, because it _will_ happen!

So keep following, reading, and writing. I promise I'll see you soon :)

Sam Xx


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